


The Housemate

by anerdandanofficer



Category: Rookie Blue
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-30
Updated: 2016-04-19
Packaged: 2018-02-19 09:15:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 56,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2382971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anerdandanofficer/pseuds/anerdandanofficer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. (title is a WIP) Before applying to the police force Gail and Dov rent together in a townhouse while they attend college. While at first Gail mocks Dov for crushing on the woman who owns the house, she soon finds that she is quite enamoured with the adorable medical student herself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I have been writing this for a while and finally decide to post the first chapter. I already have the next chapter or two written out and a reasonable plan of what is to come.
> 
> Hopefully this isn't horrendous. I think it gets a little better in the next chapter or two. Kind of.
> 
> I apologise profusely for any possible inaccuracies. And if you have advice on my bad characterisation please feel free to comment and criticise.
> 
> This is basically going to be a cheesy romance. I hope that's okay.
> 
> ...

...

I met Dov when we were both in High School at one of those information nights my parents had dragged me to where they tried to sell teenagers on joining the police force. I didn't need much selling, I'd been prepped for it my whole life. So there I was as usual, all lanky arms and tussled blonde hair, with my mother as my wingman. She was giving some speech on women in the force, and insisted I meet someone before she go on stage. It was a choice between the dorky guy in the corner who kept shovelling pretzels into his mouth when he thought no-one was looking, or some douche my mum wanted to introduce me to who was like the son of the super intendant or something at the time. I picked the former, and we spent the night mocking other people by the snacks table, which drove my mother nuts, so it was definitely worth it. After that, he was a useful person to attend these stupid things with that my mother forced me to go to, because it meant not having to make conversation with new people. And after a while, he kind of grew on me, till I actually enjoyed his company - when he wasn't being a total nerd, nagging me about doing my school work (which was always already done, though I never told him so) or trying to convince me to watch Doctor Who. We are both planning to join the police force, but for slightly different reasons. He usually spurts out something about protecting the community, but the truth of it I think is something to do with his family, his crazy hippy parents and the dead brother that he so very rarely talks about. I would never admit it to my parents, but I do actually want to be a cop. But then I have wondered countless times if this is really my own aspiration or just what I was inevitably raised to want what with two parents and an older brother all in the police force. Now I am enrolled in college to do a diploma of Police Foundations before I apply for the force next year. It isn't really necessary, because my mother is the superintendent, by father is an inspector, and my brother is a detective. Not to mention my mother is close friends with a number of people high up in the department. Dov however, actually needs to go, and to do well too as he reminds me constantly, so I guess I think of this as another year of goofing off with him before the rest of my life begins. And an extra year to get fit for the entrance tests probably wouldn't hurt. Even if you are a Peck, you need to pass your physicals.

High School ended and so now has summer vacation, as I sit in my parents sun room playing video games and waiting for D to arrive. He spent the entire summer working his ass off every single day of the week and making all the arrangements for this year, while I have been relaxing lazily on my ass all summer, driving my mother crazy. I am just about to take down the next boss when I hear a meek knock on the heavy wooden double doors, and begrudgingly press pause on my game, dropping the controller onto the ground to make a dash for the door. My socks skid on the tiled entrance floor as I try to make the sudden, tight turn right into the foyer. I regain my composure and my balance before I yank the doors open, revealing Dov on my door step, his brown flop of hair plastered to his forehead and the back of his neck with sweat. I glance past him and spot his bike (his car is obviously in the shop,  _again_ ) where it has been left carelessly to fall directly across the path leading up to the house. It will infuriate my mother when she arrives home, which makes me incredibly happy, so I make a mental note to ask Dov if he wants to stay and order pizza for dinner.

"Sup?" I ask casually, stepping aside to let him through. He passes me silently, his sneakers squeak on the clean tiles as he enters, running a hand through his hair as though this will somehow help. When he stops in the middle of the entrance and turns back towards me, grinning, I note the awkward cowlick now protruding up from the rest of the messy locks at an awkward angle and can't help but laugh.

"Okay, nerd, what's up?" I ask as I lead him through the maze of halls to the kitchen, to fetch the poor kid a drink. He looks like he could use one. Dov leans against the cool counter top gladly as I grab us each a glass and walk towards the fridge, where I have a large bottle of soda stashed. Not that my mother would ever find it, as I am not sure she has ever really set foot in the kitchen much. As I return with coke in hand Dov grins at me proudly.

"I finally found a place," he tells me. I look up from pouring, my eyebrows raised.

"Okay?" I am hoping there is more to his news than this, or I am going to be really disappointed, "good for you." Dov just smiles, used to me by now that this doesn't phase him too much, and goes on.

"Well it's a room in this townhouse near the University, and the owner is  _super_  hot," he tells me excitedly, 'in your eyes' I think, but let him keep talking, "and like, really smart too, she's a medical student or something," 'yeah, okay, definitely Dov's standard of hot' I think with a smirk, "but she actually has two bedrooms available for rent at the moment, and I was thinking that maybe you'd want to rent the other one? It's really close to the college, so it'll be a way easier commute, you won't have to live with your parents, and we can be roomies while we're at college! And we can get fit together for the PREP test, I'm thinking we're going to have to really buckle down because, Gail, my friend, you are the unhealthiest person I know." I mull this thought over in my head, having stopped paying much attention after 'won't have to live with your parents', when I realise the glass is already full and now soda is spilling over onto the bench. The dark liquid sits in a sticky puddle on the counter top around the bottom of the glass, and I carefully lift the glass up and sip the drink until I get the level a little further down sides.

"Interesting," I admit as I place the glass back down, my mind split between considering the option and simultaneously trying to decide if leaving the puddle of soda will somehow lead to my mother discovering the bottle where I wedge it in the bottom of the vegetable compartment. This however wouldn't be as much of a concern if I didn't live with my parents, which at the age of nineteen seems pretty lame, even if your parents  _are_  loaded and you can usually avoid them by staying in the other wing of the house. I mull it over.

"Where did you say this place was again?" His face breaks into a grin, from ear to ear, and I give him a disapproving frown.

"Robert st, right near Toronto Uni, it's literally a six minute drive from the college, or we can walk and catch a train, still only like fifteen, and it's great, you'll love it," he insists as I push him his own glass of soda, brimmng full, the liquid sloshing against the sides and spilling over just slightly with the force as I shove it. He picks it up gladly and skulls half of it as he waits for my reply.

"Okay."

"Okay?" he asks, barely having swallowed before the word is spilling out of his mouth. I laugh and lean over the counter to rustle his mop of hair, which he allows despite the glare I receive as I pull back.

"I will see it, okay? When do you have your car back?"

…..

I turned to glance at Dov as we pulled up on the curb in the suburban street. His old car gave a sort of pathetic moan as the engine turned off. His hair is unstyled today, the longer section at the front curving over like a wave and then flopping against his forehead in thick, chocolate brown strands. He grins at me as I raised my eyebrows apprehensively.

"So this is it?" The foliage of the maples lining the street dances in the wind and send dappled sunlight moving across the front of the car like reflections off a disco ball. They filter down through the front windscreen, warm yellow in colour, and play across the skin of my bare arms and my worn denim jeans. It's a kind of cute suburban street, with a string of slightly unusual town houses down one side, and on the other a high school, a basketball court, the back of a set of shops that run along an intersecting street. We are parked outside one particular house, the garden of which is a little unkempt, but the house is a beautiful old timber one with elegant what look like period features, a small veranda out the front where the steps lead up to and a balcony on the next floor up. Not that I am going to admit this to Dov just yet.

"This is it," he reaffirms, unclipping his seatbelt and pausing with his hand resting on the door handle.

"It needs a bit of work," I scoff as I push my own open callously, the hinge squeaking a little as I thrust it with force and slip out onto the small stretch of semi green grass between the curb and the sidewalk. The warm air pushes against my skin as I stand up, and I breath it in, hands resting on the top of the open door as I gaze up at the house in front of me and think, could I see myself living here for the next year? It seems an odd thought, to be living anywhere other than the large house we moved into when I was seven and I haven't left since. Odd, but good. How nice it will be not to walk through the halls and see the perfect framed pictures of my family, my parents and my golden star older brother, already doing superbly well in the force and making my parents proud. I shake my head and step away from the car, slamming the door behind me. This is defiantly a good idea.

Dov leads the way up to the front door and I can tell that he is a little nervous. Only Dov would already have a crush on the girl he plans to rent a room from. We walk up the wooden steps onto the small section of veranda outside the front door, the second from the top making a small but distinct creak each time weight is placed upon it. I hang back a little as Dov knocks, and watch in amusement as he runs a hand over his hair in a vain attempt to tame it mildly before the door is answered. If anything it actually seems to make it worse. I stifle a giggle and make an unenthusiastic, half hearted attempt at ensuring my own attire is neat. My fingers run over the messy weave of the side plait sitting on my shoulder, till they reach the end, and then slide down the soft material of my tshirt, smoothing out the wrinkles and folds. The metallic click of a lock rings from behind the heavy wooden door, and then it pulls open.

"Hi, Dov, and you must be Gail? It's nice to meet you, I'm Holly," the young woman is hard to see at first, before she moves forward and her face comes into the light properly. She's brunette, with long dark hair that falls in soft, elegant waves to a few centermetres below her shouders. She wears thick rimmed glack glasses, with thin lenses, that sit slightly at an angle on her nose before she quickly reaches up and adjusts them. Her smile is soft and dorky in a kind of cute, lopsided way. She runs a hand nervously back through her hair as she steps back to let us in, and I noticed the size too big, dark blue shirt that moves in deep folds around her and reads 'keep calm and call the doctor' in white letters across the front. I know exactly why Dov is so enamoured by her. She looks weird and nerdy and smoking hot in a kind of sexy librarian way, right up his alley. I step inside the entry, and am momentarily sidetracked by the house. The walls are all painted a light white colour, with small detailing around the roof and the stairwell. There are stairs leading both up and down, and we are standing in the front of the small living room, where one entire wall is a large bookcase that extends all the way to the ceiling. Most of the books look old and smell musty, reminding me of my school library and a fair few lunch times spent there sitting on my own. Down closer to the bottom are a range of what look like science textbooks, and on one end what appear to be the thin spines of comic books, and a few medical periodicals.  _Such a nerd, Dov is going to be in heaven here_.

The odd thing about checking out a new place is that you are standing there feeling like a strange visitor in someone else's home and yet trying your hardest to imagine yourself living there. I pause by the sofa and turn around, to find Dov pulling his shoes off next to the anal-y neat shoe rack by the door. I raise my eyebrows at him as he stands back up, and he gives me a look that says  _please Gail, behave yourself_. I hate that look. It's the one my mother gives me on a weekly basis. If anything, it tends to make me want to do so even less than before, when misbehaving wasn't even on my mind. I leave my shoes firmly on my feet, and honestly Holly doesn't really seem to mind or notice. If anything she gives me a very warm smile, falters a little awkwardly, and looks down at her own bare feet on the wooden floors. Im not sure if I've scared her with the semi scowl still left on my face from Dov, or just made her feel a little shy by my intense gaze. Note to self: don't stare at people so much.

"So, the kitchen is through there," she tells me, pointing towards the opening at the end of the living room that leads into another, "downstairs is the room that Dov is planning to rent, and there used to be an old rec room - it's filled with junk now, but I have been meaning to clean it out, and honestly most of it can probably be chucked, about 70% of the boxes are just old research, so, if you ever wanted some extra space, you know, you could feel free to clear it out and use it. Upstairs, there is another bedroom with a study and a small veranda, and then the next level up is my room. You're welcome to, show yourselves around, and I'll be in the kitchen if you have any questions." She pauses for a moment, and then walks past me, head ducked slightly, to pick up some books sitting on the end of the couch, clutching them against her chest as she walks through into the kitchen. I glance across at Dov, who is mouthing silently to me to take off my shoes, give him a small smirk, and then walk towards the stair case.

"Downstairs first?"

...

The lower level doesn't interest me too much, mostly because that is where Dov will be sleeping, so, who cares. After Dov has finished proudly showing me his new room to be (I remind him several time he hasn't actually signed a lease yet) I step into the hall, and begin to walk down towards this rec room. I pause to peek into the small bathroom at the end of the hall, and then turn the corner, much to Dov's protests. It's a large room, but dark and dusty and filled with crap, she was right. There are boxes stacked everywhere, but right at the back, behind some plain, thin curtains that are falling down from their hooks, are large glass doors that obviously open up into the backyard. Dov appears at my shoulder, and tugs on the end of my sleeve, and I begrudgingly leave.

"It has potential," I tell him, finding amusement in his irritation with me. This is why I don't have a lot of friends, Dov barely puts up with me as it is.

...

We are about to walk back downstairs after surveying the second level, when I pause at the stair well, and move to the side that leads up instead of down. Dov gives me a warning look, that I ignore, before tiptoeing up the wooden stair case in my sneakers. They creak a little, and I am almost wishing that I had actually taken my shoes off, purely for stealth. As I reach the top of the stairs I find I am in the upper most room of the house. It feels small, in a kind of comfortable, cosy way. On one side is a large glass door that opens up onto a rooftop terrace. The room itself is full and yet incredibly tidy. There's a large desk near the doors to the terrace that is covered in books, which seem to be organised neatly into piles and categories, there are sticky notes everywhere, and a large calendar on the wall above which has scribblings in almost every day of the week, assignments circled in red pen and underlined several times. Her bed is on the far wall, where the roof steeps down suddenly, making the space feel like a blanket fort. I am taking it all in with intrigue when I feel a hand at the back of my shirt, and I turn quickly, on instinct reaching out, my hands gripping Dov's shirt in a move that would have slammed him into the opposite wall if I hadn't recognised his face and stopped. He looks slightly pale, and I offer him a grin, releasing my grip and dusting off his shirt.

"Sorry. My parents put me through self defences classes pretty rigerously," I laugh. He rolls his eyes, and then uses them to indicate back down the stairs, where he would like me to follow him. I oblige, mostly because I don't really want to be caught snooping in this woman's bedroom.

When we walk back through the living room into the kitchen, the kettle is whistling loudly. Dov walks straight over towards where Holly is standing while i take in the room. It's a really nice sized kitchen to be honest, dark stone counter top and a breakfast bar, and behind it a small dining table against the large windows that look down on the backyard. This place is really quite big, not at all what I was expecting. I turn around and find Holly looking at me expectantly.

"Coffee? Tea? Juice?" she asks, looking back at the kitchen before adding, "Um, water? I am running out of options." She gives a short laugh, but it is loud and sincere, filling the room. I let my lips form a small smile as I walk back over to lean against the counter top.

"Coffee sounds great, thanks," I answer, somewhat thankful for the caffeine hit, seeing as Dov seems to have decided to ban me, refusing to stop at Starbucks on the way despite the fact that I pulled out my app, informing him of every single one we would be driving past on the way, and there were quite a few. I watch Holly as she reaches up and pulls a ceramic mug from the top cupboard. She's quite young really, much younger than I had assumed she would be that is.

"This is a nice house," I tell her as she pours my coffee. She glances up, eyes catching mine from behind her glasses and curtain of dark hair. They're a rich, warm brown, like treated timber floors. Something about them says solidarity and steadiness, and they look far older than her face.

"Thanks," she replies, placing the coffee pot back down, the dark liquid swaying from side to side, "This is actually my first time ever renting out any of the rooms, I'm pretty new at this. You wouldn't believe some of the crazy people I've had apply, you two are easily the most normal." She laughs, looking up at me, and when I don't smile back, mostly because I am impatiently waiting for my coffee, she turns and looks at Dov who is smiling at her a little  _too_ much, and I reckon she is probably changing her mind about that right now.

"So, you own this?" I ask, just to be sure. Dov was probably too smitten to even ask  _any_  common sense questions. Holly blushes crimson and gives a small nod.

"Yup." I frown as she brings my coffee over. She really can't be more than a few years older than me, how is that possible? Isn't it three years undergrad, then medicine? So that's maybe four or five years, depending on what year she's in. Twenty three is awfully young to  _own_  a house. My mouth speaks instantaneously in unison with my thoughts, the words coming out before i have finished processing.

"But, you're a med student, right? Are you running a methlab in the basement? Cos I have to say, that might be an issue." I can feel Dov's glare burning into the side of my head as I speak, and am aware that I am probably standing very close to a socially acceptable line, with the possibility of tripping over it at any moment. Holly's head tilts just slightly to the side in a thoughtful way, and she laughs.

"No, um, I inherited it actually," she informs me. Her voice has a kind of gentle strength to the way she speaks that tells less of shyness and more of a calm, quite nature.

"Wow, nice present from the grandparents, huh?" I grin. Her expression falters, and I realise that this is probably a bit of a dicky thing to say. Why did that sound better in my head?

"My parents, actually," she replies, her fingers drawing invisible patters over the bench top absentmindedly. My stomach drops a little, as does my expression.

"Oh,  _shit_. Sorry."  _Wow, well done Gail. Good luck getting the room now_. I drag my teeth across my bottom lip anxiously. To make matters worse Dov is walking over.

"Wow Gail, how is parents somehow worse than grandparents?" he asks, and I finally look up to see the disapproving look all over his face. I give a shrug, and try to play it cool, as though I don't feel like a  _massive_  tool right now.

"… well grandparents are old, you know? You're expecting them to die soon," I offer meekly, chewing on the inside of my cheek before taking a large sip of my coffee, gulping it down despite how hot it is inside my mouth. When I have the courage to glance at Holly again there is a small smile tugging at one corner of her mouth, and she catches my eye for a moment, before Dov pulls her focus as he speaks again.

"I am really sorry, I promise, she's not usually this much of an asshole," he tells her, pauses, and then shakes his head, his floppy brown fringe swaying, "Well she kind of is, but, you get used to her. After a while." Unfortunatley he is too far away for me to be able to thump him in the arm, so my only option is to stare daggers at him. However it seems to make Holly laugh, and for some reason that lessons my irritation at his comments. Not that this will stop me from giving him a bruised arm later when he drops me home.  _If_  he drops me home, I remind myself that he is actually my lift today so I had better start being a little nicer if I don't want to be catching public transport.

I finish my coffee and Dov, being a total kiss-up, rinses the cup for Holly before we go. She's talking details with him as we walk back through the living room, so I zone out because, boring, and I am concentrating on the living room again, on the large fuzzy dark blue rug in the middle of the floor and the photos sitting on the mantle, and i think how weird to be so young and be living in your dead parents house. I thank god that this thought stays firmly inside my head, because I have surely embarrassed myself and made Holly feel bad enough for one day. It is in this thought that in one swift moment I feel my toe jar, my mouth fall open and a screeching sound echo up my throat as I stumble forward. This is why I should concentrate more on where I am going. The pain radiates through my big toe back down the rest of my foot, in a fierce throbbing sensation. I am reasonably certain I have dropped a curse word. This is most likely one of the worst impressions I have ever really made on another person. Why am I thinking about that when my toe is in absolute agony? I am not really sure to be honest. I groan, and lean against the back of the sofa, who's wooden leg I just kicked with full force. I am biting down on my bottom lip very hard when I realise that Holly is standing next to me, her hand sitting lightly against my lower back.

"Are you okay?" I look up at her as she asks, wincing, and give a very small nod of my head to indicate as such. She looks dubious and bends down to closer inspect my foot, quickly pulling off my shoe without actually asking, and discarding my sock, to look at my toe. I am suddenly really wishing I had checked to make sure those were clean socks. I grabbed them off the floor this morning from a pile in the corner that is a dubious mix of old and new clothes. Holly doesn't seem to notice as she inspects my injury.

"I think it's broken," I whine, and she looks back up at me through her glasses, the reflection of the living room light hanging overhead catching overtheir surface and throwing a glare across her bright brown eyes. Mildly amused she let's my foot go and stands back up.

"I can assure you that is nothing but a bad bruise," she insists, "I am diagnosing you a hypercondriac though. I can get you a bandaid if that would make you feel better?" I scowl and shake my head vehemently no, pulling my sock back on hastily and shoving my foot back into my shoe. The pain is still pretty bad, but I am certainly not going to ask for an aspirin after  _that_  brash diagnosis. Someone is going to need to improve their beside manner, I think to myself moodily as Holly leads us back to the front door. As we walk down the front steps, the second from the top letting out a squeak with each step that falls on it, Dov is grinning happily.

"It's great, huh?" he says, digging his hands into the pockets of his jeans in a dweeby manner that makes me really want to smack him. But I am going to wait till we are out of sight of the house. I get the feeling he is talking as much about the woman as the house.

"A bit obnoxious," I comment, rolling my eyes as I think of the brunette, and her dorky glasses, and her quiet nerdy attitude. The house is nice, but I am not going to admit that just yet. I am yanking open the car door when I look up and find Dov watching me with an amused expression. Was I mutter under my breath my accident? I run my tongue subconsciously over my teeth before i reply, just in case.

"What?" I snap. He laughs, shaking his head as he slides into the drivers side and does up his seatbelt. I climb in as well, pulling the door closed behind me with force, and yanking so hard at my seatbelt that the automatic lock stops it from moving. I sigh, letting go, my arms crossed over my chest, as Dov starts up the engine.

"The house is obnoxious? Or Holly is?" he asks as he pulls back out onto the street. I could have asked him the same thing. I finally manage to get my seatbelt and pull it down across me to clip in. When I am certain that we are out of sight of the house I lean across and punch Dov hard in the upper arm, causing him to swerve just slightly for a split second as he cries out in pain. I  _did_  check first that there were no cars or pedestrians in sight. As he rights the car again he looks over at me and I give a bright grin.

"I'm feeling a lot better now."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry for the long wait, I intended to post once a week, but got sick and distracted haha
> 
> I am terrified about having both Steve and Elaine in this chapter, because characterisation scares me even with Gail and Holly, and Dov. So if you have any pointers, feel free to sure. But I really hope you guys like where this is headed so far!
> 
> Thank you so much to anyone who has commented, review, favourited, or reblogged the first chapter. You guys are all so super sweet :):)
> 
> And especially thank you so much to Maryaun / Weedyart for giving me her opinions and advice and very kindly reading what I have so far!
> 
> ...

_**...** _

I have made the very rational decision not to actually tell my parents that I am moving out until it's too late and I have already done so. I somehow figure that even though they will be furious, there's less chance they'll suffer the embarrassment of making me move back out. Plus it will be kind of fun to see how long it takes my mother to notice that I'm not living with them anymore. The only issue however is how to get all of my crap from one place to another. I am more than happy to move it, but the larger issues is finding transportation.

I usually see my older brother about once a month when he comes over for dinner, so he was surprised when he got my call out of nowhere, but happy to help me out. Thank god, because Dov's piece of crap car would take about four trips. He agreed, but insisted that instead of lending me his car, he would come over and help. He comes over about 11am as per my instructions, while our parents are at work. I have everything stuffed into boxes and waiting in the foyer when he arrives. He opens the door just as I come running, and skidding, down the hall towards him, and grins as I semi crash into his large chest in an awkward half hug.

"Hey," I offer cooly as I step back.

"Hey," he replies, nodding his head in greeting. He reaches his hand out to ruffle my hair and I quickly duck out of the way, glaring at him for even attempting. I motion my hand towards the boxes of things we are standing in the middle of, and peer past him to check that, yes he has brought his ute, cleared out and ready. He picks up the first box, taken aback by how heavy it is, and heaves it up to start taking it to the car.

"I have to say I am kinda surprised this is all of it," he admits gladly as he steps back out of the front door. I take another, much lighter, box and start after him, walking down the front steps. Steve's bright red hair catches the sun as he walks. I have told him repeatedly that being a carrot top means he'll have to work ten times as hard to have anyone at work respect him, but somehow they all do. We share so many qualities, but one we certainly do not is that he seems to make friends better than I do. How is that? I frown as I reached the car and dump my box into the back.

"So I take it from our timing, and the fact that I'm here helping, you haven't told mum and dad you're moving out?" he asks as we walk back up to the house. Oh, we're actually going to talk about this. I let out a heavy sigh as we trek back up the path to the front door.

"Well, no," I admit, staring up at the huge house before me. It should probably feel weirder than it does to leave the place I have lived for over eleven years of my life. Somehow though, despite the many memories I have here, this place doesn't feel all that much like home. Maybe due to the size. How can anything so big ever feel homey? Especially when only four people lived there. Maybe it had something to do with how much I loved the house we lived in before. It was still nice, it just wasn't over the top. Me and Steve had rooms next to each other, which Steve hated, because he was hitting puberty about the time we moved, but me at the young age of seven loved. I would never admit this to him now, but back then I worshipped him a little. I was only seven after all, I didn't know better yet. We reach the front door and I let him enter first.

"They'll notice after a week or so when the food isnt dispearing as quickly," I scoff, rolling my eyes. If that. I take a wheel-y suitcase full of clothes, while carefully instructing Steve to carry the very heavy box containing my computer. He is giving me a look that says I'm being ridiculous. As much as our mother drives him a bit up the wall as well, he doesn't have the same relationship with her that I do. Probably because he is the prodigal first son, already well on his way to everything they expect of us. It's not as though I don't have high expectations of myself as well, but these aren't entirely self imposed, I reason that I expect so much of myself mostly because they have always expected so much of me. I pause for a second to survey the entrance of the house, the large staircase leading up to the long hallway where my bedroom lies. I take it all in, somewhat nostalgically, just for a moment.

"Coming pipsqueak?" I hear Steve call over his shoulder to me, halfway back to the car.

...

We actually manage to get all my stuff into the one truck load, mostly because it's a single bedroom worth of junk, but also because I left a load of crap behind that I decided I didn't really need anymore. When we pull up out the front of the townhouse I turn automatically to gauge Steve's response as he takes it in for the first time, analysing his expression carefully to see if he approves or not. His bushy red eyebrows raise, and his mouth puckers slightly as he nods his head. This is Steve for I casually approve of this, a kind of stoic guarded expression that I am reasonably certain I copied from him. I quickly look away and push the passenger door open, stepping onto the nature strip. The browning grass crunches under my feet as I look up and find Dov waving at me excitedly from the patio. I guess maybe this is a small part of why I keep him around, that child like look on his face at my arrival. I roll my eyes dramatically at him as I shut the door behind me.

"Hey Steve!" he bellows at my brother, grinning, and I turn my head to see Steve's obliging polite smile and wave as he walks around to the back of the ute. Steve isn't overly fond of Dov. Not for any particular reason I suppose other than that he is the dweeby best friend of his little sister who is always a little too energetic in greeting him. I stifle a laugh as I lean against the side of the car, metal hot against my skin, and watch my brother heave a large box into my arms. He pauses with the weight leant against the edge of the ute and gives me a pointed look until I sigh and move to take one as well. When we reach the top step Dov is holding the door open for us.

"I thought you were  _never_  going to get here!" Is his greeting to me as I enter. Steve has stopped awkwardly in the middle of the living room, gazing back at me questioningly until I indicate with a nod of my head to go up the stairs. Dov follows us up, chatting away happily and being of absolutely no use. It takes ten more of these trips to get all of my junk stacked inside my new bedroom. It still doesn't feel like  _mine_ , it feels like I am an awkward guest in somebody else's house. Steve is carefully inspecting my room, checking the power sockets and knocking his knuckles against the wall in an over protective way, as though the sound will give him some indication of any possible defects. I roll my eyes at him and punch him firmly in the upper arm, eliciting a small squeal that doesn't seem fitting of a detective.

"You owe me a drink," he tells me in his most commanding voice as we walk back down the stairs, my hand trailing light over the wooden railing, trying to get accustomed to the fact that for the next 12 months from last tuesday, these are temporarily  _my_  (joint) stair railings. How odd. Steve's demand pulls me from the thought as I jump down from the bottom step.

"What if we don't have anything to drink? I haven't done any shopping yet. You know, cos I don't have a car," I give him a pointed look, rocking back on my heels with my hands behind my back, fingers slipped into the back pockets of my jeans. Steve sighs, shaking his head at me.

"You want me to take you to the supermarket?" he asks begrudgingly. I grin broadly as I lead the way into the kitchen to check the fridge.

"Well how kind of you to offer." Dov has apparently taken it upon himself to make coffee, however i note that there are only two mugs out on the bench. He looks up as we enter, sweeping his fringe back into the thick mess of his hair.

"Steve, coffee?" he asks. Steve gives me a look as he walks around to take a seat at the breakfast bar, smiling and accepting Dov's offer.

"Where's Holly?" I ask as I sit down next to my brother begrudgingly. I can smell the strong, bitter aroma of the coffee wafting up from the fresh pot Dov is now pouring, and glare at his back for not bothering to offer  _me_  any. He turns around and offers a cup out to Steve, keeping the other firmly in his own hands.

"Uni," he informs me, "water Gail?" I try to give him my best death glare, but he doesn't seem to pay much notice, taking a glass over to the tap to pour me one anyway. When he returns with it, placing it on the bench in front of me, I push it away sullenly.

"You're key is on the hook by the door, by the way," he tells me, picking up his coffee and taking a sip.

"So when do you kids start college?" Steve asks me, incredibly amused by this whole exchange, as he cradles his hot drink between his hands. I kick at his shin where his legs hand down from his stool, but can't quite reach, my foot just falling short, the tip of my shoe barely grazing his skin, and throwing me slightly off balance. Steve withholds a laugh as Dov replies.

"Three days." He is grinning, getting excited again. Who get's excited about more school? A whole extra year of having to apply myself, after high school has now finally finished. I groan at the thought and slump down in my seat to rest my chin on top of my folded arms.

…

Steve, in a rare moment of sibling kindness, takes me and Dov out to dinner, to celebrate our first night out of home. His treat, he says, but then mysteriously can't find his wallet when it comes time to pay, and I end up forking out for all three of us. Luckily I still have a copy of our parents credit card, 'for emergencies', and decide that tonight is on them, as a leaving home present. When he drops us back 'home' the sun has set. We stand in the pooled light of a street lamp as he drives off, before turning back towards the house. The lights are still all off inside, and I raise an eyebrow at Dov as we walk up the path to the front door. Are we supposed to get worried if Holly doesn't come home? How does the whole roommate thing work exactly? We haven't really set any ground rules yet. I jump extra hard on the second step from the top and it creaks especially loud beneath my weight, bowing in the middle to an extent that makes me mildly concerned. I quickly step up onto the next, and then up onto the small patio, loitering behind Dov as I wait for him to open the door. He steps to the side and leans against the wall, looking at me expectantly. There is a small pause, and then I roll my eyes at him.

"Are you going to let us into the house, weirdo?" I ask him, unamused by this little charade. His expression turns from one of confusion, to concern, to irritation rather quickly.

"Well,  _no_ , because  _you_  have the key," he tells me. But I can tell from the way he is saying it that he has realised I very clearly do not. I cross my arms over my chest, pushing my tongue against the inside of my cheek in annoyance.

"Dov," I say sternly, "why would I have my key with me?  _You_  brought  _yours_." He lets out a heavy breath, hand reaching up to rub against his forehead in what is a classic Dov move. When he drops it back to his side his features are void of any clear expression, but I can tell that he's mad.

"Of  _course_  you don't. Why would Gail Peck ever have to bother bringing her own key?" he says mockingly. I bite back any words that are tempted to slip from my lips, and lean back against the wooden railing next to the stairs. This is why I shouldn't have made the rash decision to move in with Dov. I swallow back the anger at the back of my throat, a hot lump that settles in the bottom of my stomach, before I hear footsteps on the path behind us, and turn to find Holly walking up to the front of the house, completely oblivious to the fight she has just walked in on. Her glasses are falling down her nose as she fumbles to pull her keys from the bottom of a tote bag filled with heavy books and her laptop. I can tell from the way the strap forms a crevice in the puffy material of her jacket just how heavy it is, pushing the light fabric right down against her shoulder, her whole frame angled slightly to that side with the weight of it. She looks up, a little bewildered, as she reaches the steps and finds us staring down at her.

"Oh, hi," she squeaks, surprised, and hurries up, "Sorry, have you been waiting for long?" she asks as she shoves the key into the lock. I instinctively reach out and pull the bag from her shoulder as she fiddles to get the door open, and she blinks at me, I can tell still thrown off by our presence, as she lets me take it. I was right, it is extremely heavy. I'm not sure how she hasn't done her back in. She pushes the front door open, absentmindedly leaving the keys still in it, before I quickly pull them out and close it behind us all.

"Nah, only about five minutes. Gail forgot her keys," Dov tells her as he turns on the light, suddenly flooding the living room. I glare at him as I dump her bag on the floor by the foot of the lounge, leaving her keys sitting on top, and make my way directly up stairs to my bedroom, closing the door firmly behind me. The room is pitch black, and although I would like to leave it that way, not only do I not have any sheets on my bed to sleep on yet, but I would probably break my neck tripping on boxes trying to get there. I sigh and flick it on at the switch by the door. Cardboard boxes stacked in piles through out, and a bare mattress on a base greet my eyes. I let out a heavy breath. I will tackle unpacking tomorrow, for now I rummage through a few boxes until I find sheets and a pillow. I know Holly said there was a spare doona I could have somewhere, but I'm not sure where to look, and on a to summer night like tonight I think I can go without it. I can imagine Dov's snide comment as to whether or not I have ever even made my own bed before, and this makes me even madder as i pull the bottom sheet on around the corners. When i finish it is messy but sufficient for now, and I turn off the light and crawl underneath. If there is one thing I can do, and do well, it is sleep.

...

I have managed to avoid having too many run-ins with either Holly or Dov for the past day and a half, either by staying locked in my room unpacking, or walking all the way across the University of Toronto campus to what I seem to have made my local Starbucks, located in the Medical Building. It's a bit of a trek, but in all honesty the exercise is probably good for me and helps counteract my grande white chocolate mocha. I am vaguely aware that I am possibly increasing my chances of running into Holly outside of the house, seeing as, well,  _Medical Building_ , duh. But it's the closest Starbucks, so what is a girl to do?

It's Sunday morning, and I start my first day of college tomorrow, so I slept in till eleven and took the long way meandering through the large campus buildings and pathways to Starbucks to start my day off with a walk and a large coffee. I know I will have to talk to Dov today because otherwise I am walking and catching the train tomorrow, and it doesn't really help trying to make friends when you arrive at class late, decaffeinated and sweaty.

I am almost back home, and my coffee is now a small, cold mouthful in the very bottom of my cup as I walk up our street.  _Our street_ , it still feels funny to say that, but I am slowly getting used to this place being my temporary home. Without thinking I raise the large cardboard cup to my lips, the last few drops rolling out of the plastic lid onto my tongue, and sliding into my mouth. Coffee is so much worse cold. I swallow it, cringing as it slips down my throat, and glare at the empty cup still left in my hands. I glance around the empty street before casually letting it slip out of my grip as it swings by my side, and pretend not to notice as I keep walking, the hollow item cluttering softly against the cement. The neighbour hood is quiet and so suburban, all the noise on our street that kind of dull background sound echoing in-between the buildings in a soothingly normal kind of way. A child crying somewhere, the soft beat of music, car engines, the thumping of someone dribbling a ball on the basketball court a few houses down. I reach the townhouse and stroll straight up the front lawn, jogging up the wooden steps to the door. I know they're both home, so the door is unlocked, and I stroll in casually, the feel of the cool conditioned air soft against my skin as I close it behind me. I yank off my sneakers and leave them lying in the vague vicinity of the shoe rack. I am deciding whether to risk a detour to the kitchen for food, when a laugh catches my ear and I feel my blood go as cold as that last mouthful of coffee.

I would know that crisp, polite laugh anywhere. I brace myself as I stroll casually into the kitchen, where I find her seated at the dining table. This is the first time I have seen anyone use the dining table, go figure. My mother is wearing her uniform, the neatly iron white shirt commanding attention, and she sits upright and unrelaxed at the head of the table while Holly sits near her. Her strawberry hair is perfectly straightened and styled to sit in a severe way just above her shoulders. They both have half empty cups of coffee in front of them.

"Mother," I greet her, in what isn't quite a surprised tone, because as surprised as I am at the same time I'm just not surprised at all, "What are you doing here?" I ask bluntly. Even though I am not expecting it, because not only should she not know by now that I have moved out, but she certainly should not have figured out to exactly where, it kind of makes total sense that she has somehow managed to figure it all out. No doubt Steve caved quite easily, so I am certain he is my weak link. She sits up, if possible, a little straighter, her head turned towards me and a warning look on her face not to embarrass her or myself in front of my housemate. I plaster a fake look of pleasant surprise onto my face as I walk over, placing my hands on the wooden back of a chair.

"Well, I needed to see your new place, didn't I?" she says warmly, looking around the room for show, and then giving Holly a smile, "It really is as lovely as Abigail said." I cringe visibly at the use of my full name, never mind the sickening lie it accompanies, my hands tightening around the wood beneath them till my knuckles are starting to go white.

"Thank you so much, Superintendent Peck," Holly replies, both hands resting delicately around the white china of her cup as she raises it to her mouth. I can see she has gotten out her nice crockery, and am thankful. One less thing for my mother to pick at later. Part of me would love to leave my mother here and just walk out again, but part of me feels bad for imposing her company on poor Holly for who knows how long already.

"Wanna see my room?" I ask my mother, with minimum enthusiasm. She gives me an almost genuine smile as she rises to her feet, the wooden chair scraping back behind her, leaving her half drunk cup on the table. I make a mental note that I may need to buy Holly chocolates or something later as an apology, as I lead the way through the living room and up the stairs to the second floor. My mother takes her time surveying the small study area at the front of the second level, walking up to the old wooden desk in front of the large glass window, while I stand impatiently at the back wall, waiting for the other shoe to drop. She walks over to what I had stupidly assumed was an almost floor to ceiling window, and places her hand on what I now realise is a small handle. That kind of explains how you get onto the balcony.

"May I?" my mother asks in faux politeness, so I give a stiff nod of my head and reluctantly follow her out. Her foot steps clunk on the light, old wood, that same washed out grey colour as the terrace upstairs. This space is more open though, the bars of the railing spaced out so as to let the bright green of the now eye level shrubbery in. The larger tree in the front yard leans up towards us, one long branch resting along part of the railing in such a way that the two woods almost look as though they are one. My mother turns back to see that I have closed the door behind us, and then crosses her arms firmly. And then she does what Eleanor Peck does best - not fierce anger, but that look of I am so hurt and disappointed, you've let us down. How does all that fit into one expression, those few simple lines of her tight lipped mouth and the crease between her eyes, the one that my father always says mirrors mine when he wants to tease me. I fold my arms in retaliation.

"Were you ever planning to tell us?" she asks me sarcastically, in a tone that says don't even bother answering, "I can't believe I had to hear it from that _friend_  of yours, that, Pigeon boy."

"Dov," I correct instinctually, although the name comes out more of a growl on my tongue, "Why were you talking to Dov?".

"Well I called him asking where on earth you were, and he said at your new place of course. Well how surprised I was, to find out that my daughter had moved out," there is a modicum of hurt in her voice, but I ignore it, and roll my eyes as though she is being dramatic. I guess  _maybe_  I am the one who was being a tad on the dramatic side, leaving without a word or a note. It seemed so logical at the time. I push up on to the tips of my bare feet, the soles pushing into the rough grain of the wood, sliding my tongue along the inside of my mouth, any words I may have struck behind my teeth. When I am silent for too long my mother frowns impatiently, turning to face away from me, her hands coming to rest on the wooden railing as she looks down at the street.

"I have to say that I appreciate the fact that are finally  _doing_  something, for the first time this summer," she confesses, and I blink, slightly surprised. A compliment from my mother, that was certainly unexpected.

"I am glad you are actually bothering to go to college," the complimentary nature is quickly fading out, "I am not sure how you are paying for all this though," she comments, indicating with her head at the townhouse behind us.

"I've had a savings account since I was four," I remind her, running a bare toe along a groove in the woodwork as I avoid making eye contact with her, "And I am going to get a job. Just like Steve did when he moved out." When I look back up, just for a second, I think she almost looks just a little impressed. And then that quickly disappears.

"Well. I must admit, I rather like Holly. And it's not so bad a place to rent. There is a reasonably low crime rate here," she seems to be contemplating, and then when she looks up, face stern, she gives a small nod, "Okay. You will come over for dinner once a fortnight and tell us how school is going of course." I give a small shake of my head, feeling both guilty and triumphant. My plan worked out quite well really.

My mother doesn't stay for long. She surveys my half unpacked room, makes a disapproving face at my choice of decoration thus far, offers a piece of sharply worded advice  _" Always remember who you are, work harder than anyone else, and don't screw up."_ She tells me she knows a man who works at the college, 'keep an ear out for Robert Barns', I am to tell him the Pecks send their regards if we cross paths. I walk her to the front door, and she pushes an out of place bit of hair back into position behind my ear, tells me I should wear it out more, and possible get a trim, before she says goodbye, and comments that I am to keep my eye on  _Doug_. I shake my head, but keep my mouth shut. When she leaves I push the heavy wooden door closed thankfully behind her, and finally relax again. Not the Sunday afternoon I had had in mind, that is certain. I pad back across the smoothed wooden flooring of the living room, into the kitchen, where Holly is cleaning up. As I enter she leaves the dish sitting in the sink, semi submerged in soap suds, and pours a fresh cup of coffee, pushing it towards me awkwardly down the bench. Steam rises up from the top, bringing the aroma with it to grace my nostrils. It's a fresh pot. I take it thankfully, and lean against the bench top, watching as she moves back to the sink, sleeves bunched up around her elbows as her hands sink into the hot, soapy water again. For a moment I think she is going to say something, but then she doesn't.

"I'm really sorry about my mother," I tell her, dragging my gaze down to the coffee in my hands just before she glances back towards me. Out of the corner of my eye I can see her give a small smile, and a shrug.

"No biggie, really," she replies quickly, pauses and then adds, "She was nice." I suppress a laugh at this, though I think Holly notices. I wouldn't say that the words nice and my mother really go hand in hand. And I am reasonably certain that the very friends friends I've ever had, whom I chose myself, would agree.

"Not really. But, you know how mothers are," I comment, but then realise the words I have said, and bite the inside of my cheek, feeling so incredibly stupid. Do i have foot in mouth disease? I always seem to say the worst things around this woman. I hear the squeak of a cloth against crockery, and realise I am just standing here creepily behind her as she washes up, drinking my coffee, in dead silence. I feel awkward, shifting my weight from one foot to the other, but now feel as though I have stood here too long to just suddenly leave. What do I say? My mouth is semi open, as though I am about to speak, but nothing is coming out. I blow on the surface of my coffee, breath pushing the steam to curl at an angle around the air moving out of my lips. I glance again towards Holly where she stands, soft light coming through the window behind her and creating a warm glow around the outline of her hair as it falls over her shoulders. I let my gaze fall back to coffee.

"Well, I should-"  
"If you want-"

I stop as I realise she is talking too, both of our words forming a jumbled mess of temporary sound that stops again so fast I almost feel that neither of us has spoken at all. My cheeks feel warm, and I look up to find she is still facing the sink. She stands still, water up to the top of her thin wrists, the sponge clutched in one hand below the surface.

"Um, I should, go get my stuff ready, for tomorrow. Thanks again for the coffee," I tell her, before awkwardly shuffling out of the kitchen, hands clasped tightly around the warm sides of the mug. If this was a trial run of tomorrow, I would have to say, I am genuinely concerned about my chances of making any friends.

...

When dinner time rolls around I jog downstairs to find the living room and kitchen empty. I know everyone is home, and therefore no doubt each confined to their rooms. Holly at least has reason for this I am sure, Dov however not so much. I survey the kitchen for a moment, considering cooking as a kind of truce to settle our feud. I then remember the last time I actually tried to cook, and quickly change my mind. When you struggle to produce edible packet macaroni cheese, cooking is probably not something to venture into lightly. I walk back up the stairs, pausing at my level, before tentatively walking up the next flight. As I get past half way and Holly's bedroom starts to come into view, I peer up to find the woman at her desk. it occurs to me that after living here for all of a weekend, we have barely interacted at all. Yes, okay, this is in large part due to my avoidance of her, and everyone (Dov) since the other night. Even as I approach the top step I can tell that she is tense from her body language as she sits hunched over her laptop, typing fast, taking notes out of a thick textbook that is propped awkwardly next to her on a pile of others. She keeps craning her neck, eyes squinting through her glasses as she reads each new line, and then turns back to type it out furiously before she forgets the wording. I am considering how to gently brake her trance, without giving her a heart attack, when the wood of the stairs creaks loudly beneath my step, giving me away, and she blinks in surprise, looking back towards me. Wisps of dark hair fall around her face in gentle waves as she twists in her chair.

"Hi," I squeak, far more timidly than I meant to, clear my throat and harden my expression a little, leaning casually against the banister, "How does Chinese food sound?" This was meant to be a casual, nonchalant offering to buy dinner, but somehow comes out a little different. In fact, a little creepy. Holly blinks again, big brown eyes still taking me in where I stand, arms crossed defensively over my chest as I wait for her answer.

"Is it dinner time already?" she asks, sounding somewhat stressed by this idea, and I give a small nod to affirm, "Oh. - Sorry, yes, Chinese, fine." She nods, one delicate hand reaching up too slide the thick frame of her glasses back up her nose, before continuing up to rub her forehead. I am left to assume that what ever I order will be fine, as she turns back to her work, now slightly flustered, and tries to find her place again. I allow my eyes to scan over her room quickly again before I begin descending the stairs, the room seemingly different somehow in the mute evening light.

I walk all the way up the road to the Chinese takeout place up on the street that intersects with ours, just around the corner, and come back with two large bags filled with enough takeout to sustain three college students for three days. This includes, although I will later feign being unaware as such, Dov's favourite. When i get home i dump the lot on the table, grab out some heavy crockery plates and glasses onto the counter, and jog downstairs to the bottom level, to Dov's closed bedroom door. I knock loudly, and suddenly the music behind dulls in volume, before the door swings open. Dov looks back at me nonchalantly.

"Food?" I ask him. He raises his eyebrows at me in a condescending way which says, please tell me you didn't cook. I roll my eyes and hit him in the upper arm, causing him to flinch.

"Wimp," I tell him, turning to ascend the stairs, "I got take out." I hear him walking up behind me, and I smile to myself. As we reach the landing of the first floor though he pauses, hand on the railing, and his gaze cast up the next flight thoughtfully.

"I should tell Holly we have food," he says, already jogging up the stairs before I can stop him from going up and trying to steal the credit. At least I asked her before, or I am sure he would have somehow managed to have her thinking it was him who had gotten it for us all. I walk back into the kitchen and start loading up my plate with food, which is soon piled high, grabbing myself a pair of cheap wooden chopsticks, and break them apart, inevitably in a rough manner that leaves both sides splintery. I hover awkwardly at the end of the counter, deciding whether to go dining table or breakfast bar, when I hear footsteps descending the stairs, and somehow against my better less social judgment, I choose dining table.

I am sliding into a seat when Dov and Holly enter. Dov is chatting away to her, as she distractedly nods her head at even intervals and makes a path straight for the food. I watch her tentatively place a bit of this and that on her plate, a small portion of rice and a large helping of the vegetable heavy dish that I ordered just in case. I got a sense from the way her fridge had been previously stocked that that might be up her alley. Dov is halfway through saying something when she picks up her chopsticks, heavy plate carefully balanced in one arm, and looks up, catching my gaze to smile at me.

" _Thank you_ ," she tells me, before taking the plate and walking back up stairs, leaving Dov mid sentence, rambling to himself, me and the now otherwise empty kitchen. His mouth is open when he realises she has left, and hangs like that momentarily, catching flies, before he firmly shuts it, and loads his plate with food similarly to mine, eyes lighting up a little when he spots his favourite dish, but doesn't thank me for it. When he sits down opposite me I am grinning in amusement.

"Shut it Gail," he tells me, shoving food into his mouth awkwardly with the chopsticks he can barely use. I burst out laughing as I sit, with my chopsticks still poised in my hand.

"You are such a loser," I tell him, grinning as I shove a large portion into my mouth hungrily.

...

**_A/N: Much more Gail x Holly interaction next chapter I promise ;)_ **


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Okay so we are finally getting into the better part, and I am so excited for you guys to read it (and hopefully you don't totally hate it ).
> 
> Thank you so much to the few of you who actually bother to read this, especially those who review :) It really means a lot to me.
> 
> I have had .. well okay only one comment, but, maybe others have thought it to, that Holly and Gail are a bit awkward together so far? I just felt like rambling a little about why I did that, and feel free to skip. But I feel like because they are so much younger here than when they first meet in the series, and there characters are still developing towards the point they were then, that the as people are going to be a little different, and therefore so are their interactions. It's not supposed to be super awkward like they don't click, it's more this nervous energy that young Gail doesn't know what to do with when she is around Holly because she doesn't recognise what it is. And ugh yeah I don't explain myself very well. Anyway, it get's a bit better this chapter? Like they start to form more of their friendship (;)) like we know in the show, and anyway i really hope you guys like it !
> 
> i'll stop talking now…. haha
> 
> ...

...

The first day of college goes surprisingly not quite as bad as I had thought. Somehow is his dweeby, bumbling manner, Dov manages to make friends with another guy in our class fairly quickly, and by the end of the day we have been invited to drinks later this week. Myself only included by association to Dov of course. But all in all, I am not totally socially and mentally shattered by my first day at college.

We arrive home mid afternoon, and Dov runs downstairs to ditch his new textbooks in his bedroom before we grab something to eat. I linger in the living room, leaning against the back of the sofa, thinking about the fact that I have yet to actually sit on it, and wondering what Holly's policy might be on eating there. As if by divine timing, as I am standing here thinking this, Holly comes ambling down the stairs, head buried in thought and gaze cast towards her feet as she walks. Her t-shirt crinkles in dark grey folds around her torso as she moves. I recognise the shirt she is wearing. I frown, tilting my head to the side as I focus on it more clearly now. She descends the last step, still off in her own world and comes to a holt at the bottom when she finds me standing directly in front of her, staring I realise now kind of at her chest.

"Is that my shirt?" It's a rhetorical question because I  _know_  it's my shirt. The faded and chipped letters on the front still recognisably spells out 'pickering college - physical education' around the outside of the logo. It is one of my favourite shirts, that I wear to bed frequently, not that Holly could really possibly know this. But surely she realises that the shirt she is wearing is certainly not hers. She looks up at me, surprised, and then looks down at the t-shirt, her cheeks flushing.

"I- um- I was in such a rush this morning, I was running late for class and I just grabbed the first thing i could find in the washing basket and threw it on, I'm so sorry." She looks and sounds genuinely apologetic. She is biting down on her bottom lip so hard I am sure she is going to draw blood and her eyebrows are knitted over the thick black rims of her glasses. I let out a steady breath and shake my head. And then I frown as a part of what she has just said registers.

"Wait, ew, was it  _dirty_?" I ask. Holly's cheeks turn, if possible, even darker crimson. I burst out laughing, shaking my head at her. This nerd is so overworked with university she is grabbing other peoples dirty laundry out of the basket on the way to class. When I look closer I now notice the slight shading of bags beneath her eyes, thrown off by the heavy black lines of her glasses.

"You need to take a break," I tell her, as she stands awkwardly by the stair well, leaning back against the banister in a kind of endearing way, "You seem overworked." Holly smiles and nods her head, one hand reaching up to play with the hem of my shirt she is wearing where one piece of thread is coming loose. I watch her fingers roll the string between them, until the long strand begins to roll into a knotted ball.

"Well, thats Med school for you," she gives a small shrug, "I thought getting in was the hard part, but as it turns out it just stays hard," she tells me, rolling her eyes as she lets the cotton thread fall out of her grip and smooths the hand down the front of her baggy track pants, as she goes into a rant about some area she is covering in class. I raise my eyebrows at her words, which are all going over my head entirely. The kind of five syllable words that drag sentences out ten times as long and kind of make my brain hurt usually just by hearing them. When she says them however not so much. However my focus pulls quickly from the sound of her words, to the look on her face, that kind of avid fascination that I don't have for many things. My eyebrows knit in a heavy frown as I try to decipher some of what she is saying, thinking back to my old english classes about using the latin root of a word, but this quickly becomes boring. Holly finally trails off, seeming to notice that I am not following in the slightest.

"What's with all the words?" I ask, my tone coming out one of irritation, because this is my usual kind of response to Dov when he is being nerdy. The different of course is that he tends to say these things to me in a kind of condescending way as though I won't understand. I've never told him just how well I did in school, which was reasonably well, because Peck's expect a lot of you, it's not enough in my family to slide idly by on the back seat of your last name, and I've been raised not to want to do so anyway. However it's kind of insulting how he just assumes that because I don't  _need_  the good grades to end up as a cop, that I wouldn't bother to try and get them. Holly's rant however was more of an "I am so interested in and passionate about this, let me share it with you" babble of un-intelligible words that my brain wasn't ready to even try to comprehend after my first day at college. I think that sentence alone probably distinguishes  _my_ kind of normal level intelligence, with Holly's innately nerdy, well above average IQ.

"I guess you're not really a science person," she replies. I am not sure if it is meant to come out as biting as it does, she has this challenging look on her face, this kind of incredulous wondering at my words and my tone and the expression no doubt covering my face, like she is daring me to bite back. To be fair, any hostility in her voice is probably entirely justified by what I have just said. I roll my eyes at her dramatically, brushing back the blonde hair that falls in front of my face as I do so.

"Well we aren't all  _nerds_ ," I retort, smirking, as I step away from the couch to walk up past her. I don't think it was really my intention, but as we pass at the bottom of the stairs my arms brushes against hers, and I try to turn it into a friendly nudge, but kind of end up pushing her off balance, and I can feel my face turning beetroot red as I apologise, and she is leaning against the railing, laughing at me and shaking her head "It's  _fine_  Gail" totally amused, and I frown grumpily and jog back up the stairs to the second level.

...

After the 'almost shoving her down a stairwell" incident, I avoid Holly for the next three days. As much as is possible, that is, with us living in the same house and all. I actually got a job, by some miracle, at Starbucks, which I find rather fitting, and have gone to college and then work the past two days, and come home to study in my room and then go to bed. College is going surprisingly okay, apart from the having to do readings and learn things and I don't really  _enjoy_  the social aspect so much, because they're kind of Dov's friends, and I sometimes feel a bit left out, not that I would ever admit this to anyone, but  _apart_  from all of that, it's not so bad. Okay maybe it's a little shitty. Not to mention, as it turns out, Dov has now revealed to me that his attempted coffee ban is part of this new healthy eating plan he is apparently going to start implementing for us both, to get us ready for our PREP tests. I have tried to remind him that we have  _a whole year_  to get ready for them, and I am certainly not giving up my caffeine for a week never mind a year, but he seemed to ignore that.

However I have been given the all clear by him to have 'a few drinks' tonight when we go out with his new college friends to a pub on the university campus nearby. I of course repaid him with a large bruise on his upper arm for being such a git,  _allowing me_ , ugh. No wonder he is still single. Despite his best efforts to subtly woo our poor housemate.

I am halfway through getting ready when I hear Dov downstairs in the living room, talking with Holly, and I push my bedroom door a little further open so that I can overhear, partially for the amusement of Dov making an ass of himself, and partially in case I need to go down to Holly's rescue. I keep raiding my shirt draw whilst I listen in.

"What are you up to tonight?" I imagine him awkwardly cornering her as she tries to make it to the kitchen to get a snack, mid study.

"Oh, uh, not much. Just, studying," she replies, her voice polite and friendly, if a little off put because, let's be honest, my imagination is probably pretty bang on target.

"Do you wanna come grab a drink with me at the GSU Pub?" How forward Dov. The boy has no game.

"Oh, is Gail going too?" I grin as I hear this, sucked in Dov, she totally likes me better already, and I speak to her nowhere near as often. Actually this is probably a large part of  _why_  she likes me more. Despite some of my more awkward social faux pas in our few interactions.

"Yea, but don't worry, she won't be too annoying. She tends to mellow out when she's drunk." Oh I am so going to be giving him an extra bruise later. Not cool. I frown to myself, and start pushing tshirts aside a little more forcefully as I try to find what to wear. I hear Holly laugh loudly.

"While I would probably enjoy seeing that, I actually have an in-class test tomorrow morning, so, I'm just gunna do some last minute cramming I think. But, thanks for the invite." I note that she didn't actually disagree with Dov for calling me annoying, and yank a casual light blue tshirt from the mess of my draw. I push it closed with a loud thud, which I hope they both have heard, and yank open the next one up to find pants. The cold air is starting to send goosebumps crawling across my bare skin as I stand in the centre of my room wearing nothing but a bra and underpants, searching through the draw to discover that my favourite pair of jeans are not here, they are drying in the laundry downstairs. I throw on the tshirt I have picked out and make my way down the stairs. It is only as I enter the living room, hand resting on the railing, and find both Holly and Dov staring at me that I realise - oh, yes, no pants. I give them both an unfazed smile, whilst inside I am slightly dying of embarrassment, not so much at pervy Dov, which I don't care about at all, but more so about poor Holly who has just received a lovely view of her new roommate. I glance back as I am walking down the next set of stairs to the bottom level to find they are both still watching, and I roll my eyes at Dov, flipping him off before I disappear below view, and the last thing I catch sight of before my eyes fall below ground level is Holly's bright red cheeks as she ducks her head. This actually greatly amuses me. I find the pair of jeans I was looking for and pull them on, before running my fingers through my hair, tussling the light blonde strands into a slightly less messy form.

When I come back upstairs Dov is waiting in the kitchen alone, and I am slightly disappointed that Holly has gone back upstairs already and I don't get to tease her. Dov is grinning at me, and I walk in and swat the back of his head as I pass him to reach the fridge, finding no soda, only orange juice, and close the door again forcefully.

"You owe me several drinks," I tell him disaprovingly.

The night isn't so bad. Or what i remember of it anyway. The pub is a short ten minute walk away. It is crowded and loud, full of university students slacking off on their studies. Dov spots his new friend from college, Chris, and the other people he seems to have formed some kind of high-school-esk friendship group with. The beer is cheap and the music is mellow, and although Chris is not exactly the best conversational partner, and that girl Andy is a little annoying, it is an okay night, of what I remember.

That is until I wake up this morning with the headache of all headaches, my tshirt half on, and my doona covers on the floor.

I make it down to the kitchen as I hear the loud sounds of what I have come to know is Holly getting read for class. I am sitting at the breakfast bar when she walks in, my forehead resting on the cool granite and arms lain over my head to keep the light out as much as feasibly possible. Her foot steps clunked down the stairs, sounding louder than normal - but then everything does today. My head throbs, my mind overcome by the sensation of the blood moving through my veins clunkily, as though it is a person, a drunk person stumbling through my veins and banging against the sides as they make their way. I wince and rub my temples gingerly. Similes are not my strong suit at the best of times.

"Coffee?" comes her voice from in front of me. I had almost forgotten she was here. I tenderly move my arms aside and raise my head just slightly, wisps of blonde hair falling around my face as I venture to squint slightly up at her from the other side of the kitchen counter. She offers a small, mildly sympathetic smile, which quickly turns more into an expression of amusement, so I glare up at her. Until I realise she is the one holding the pot of steaming hot coffee, and offering to pour it for me, and I begrudgingly let the cold stare I had been giving her slip from my face.

"Yes,  _please_ ," I implore meekly. She laughs, and the sound is like needles pressing against my scalp. I wager that if I told her this her response would be something about how I was incorrectly stating the area and sensation of the pain, and then something about how the diagnosis luckily wasn't a tricky one though. It didn't take a pompous medical student to know why I had the headache of all headaches today. She reaches into the cupboard on the other side of the kitchen, pyjama top rising as her arms stretch up, and revealing the small, pale section of her lower back just above the waistband of her track pants. She clutches a ceramic mug and lowers back down to the flats of her feet, shirt falling back down again too. She turns around and pours the coffee silently into the cup, the strong bitter smell wafting up to catch my nose. I breathe it in deep and let out a long steady sigh.

"So, good night last night?" she asks me. She has paused, hand on the edge of the now full ceramic mug, but not yet offering it towards me. She is holding my coffee ransom. I return her gaze where it falls down to greet me from over the edge of her glasses, brown eyes a rich hazel colour in the light that filters through the trees and into the kitchen windows.

"I'm not entirely sure," I admit, with a small smirk tugging at my lips that can't quite fully form without making my head  _ache_. She shakes her head at me disapprovingly and moves over to return the coffee jug to it's rightful spot on the opposite kitchen bench. I stare imploringly at my cup of coffee, just out of my reach, a small turret of condensation rising in twisting spires from it's surface. Now would be a great time for my secret power of telepathy to kick in. Unfortunately, no such luck. All that staring intensely at the cup does is make my headache worse.

"Well, I am pretty sure it  _was_ a good night. From what I heard, anyway." I glance up again as she moves back over to my side of the kitchen, her hands coming to rest on either side of my coffee cup, but still not yet handing it up to me. Her neatly trimmed nails drum against the side of the cup, and I groan slightly, the faintest memory coming back to me in fuzzy watercolour images. Something about stumbling  _very_  loudly upstairs, climbing one too many flights of stairs, and ending up in her bedroom on the top level by accident.

"Oh," I breathe out, offering her a mildly apologetic look, "oops." She scoffs and finally picks up the hot cup of coffee, holding it out towards me. The scoldings ceramic sides scorch my palms, and I simply clasp to the cup tighter to make sure I don't loose my grip, finger tips burning against the surface as I raise the liquid to my lips. I blow on the surface before taking a small, tentative sip. The piping hot liquid rolls over my bottom lip and down into the chasm of my mouth, sweeping under and over my tongue, the strong flavour over taking my mouth.

"Mmhmmm," Holly is mumbling, tight lipped, as she watches me drink, and I return my attention to her, despite the fact that I would very much like to concentrate on the hot, rich caffeine washing down my throat and working it's way towards my stomach. She should consider it a kindness that in my horribly hungover state I am offering her this gift of my attention. It is hard to come by on my best of days.

"You may have to remind me exactly what it is I will need to make up to you," I mutter, the sound of my own voice vibrating loudly inside my mouth as I speak, so I try to make my words quieter, the sentence ending in almost a whisper. Her expression softens a little at my admission and she leans her hips forward against the counter, palms face down on the cool stone surface and shoulders slouching up.

"Well. I was getting in some extra study, you know before the mini test I have this morning in class," she begins, and I cringe visibly, which seems to make her kind of amused, "And I heard you and Dov come back. I think half the street did, to be honest. I heard you guys singing several minutes before I actually heard the front door open. Dov went downstairs. He steps surprisingly lightly for a guy. And then you came  _clunking_  up, and I think you didn't realise that you came one flight too far, or maybe you just wanted to pay me a visit," this is sarcasm, she is smirking at me as she says so, "To be fair, you were pretty polite once you realised that it was very clearly my room that you were standing in the middle of." I can feel my cheeks flushing slightly pink.

"And that's all?" I question, concerned about where this scenario could have gone from there, considering what I can be like when intoxicated (irrational, impulsive, and slightly unaware of boundaries). She gives me a soft smile, her eyes indicating there may be something she isn't telling me. But the way her lips smirk tell me maybe I am better off not knowing.

"Yea, that's all," she replies tentatively. I give her a sheepish look.

"I am  _sincerely_  sorry," I tell her, before taking another, larger, mouthful of hot coffee, and swallowing it down, feeling the heat of it move through my body into the unsteady pitt of my stomach. Holly nods and gives me a small smile before she pushes off of the counter with her hands and turns around to open the refrigerator. She stands perusing the lacklustre contents for anything decent to eat, but seems a little fussy seeing as there is a perfectly good tub of chocolate custard in the middle of the shelf which would probably be my breakfast if I could stomach it this morning.

"Are you eating?" she asks me, head still in the fridge, her voice reverberating off the white plastic insides. I offer a half hearted mumble that is a tentative, 'maybe' kind of sound. She pulls out the half empty carton of eggs wedge down the back, holding it up in offering as she steps back and closes and door behind her.

"Scrambled eggs? I'm cooking," she asks, placing them down next to the stove before moving over to a set of low draws to pull out a suitable fry pan. I stare longingly at the eggs, but my stomach makes a hideous sound and then shifts uncomfortably in my abdomen and I shake my head.

"I think I will be sticking firmly to toast," I admit forlornly, letting my head fall back down to rest on the counter. A moment later I heart rustling in the cupboard, plastic packaging crackling, and running water, before I hear her moving over towards me, and placing something down on the counter in front of me. I venture a tentative peek out of the dark sanctuary between my arms and spot a large glass of water and an aspirin. When I look towards her she has gone back to getting ready her food, but she glances over her shoulder and catches me looking, giving me an almost shy smile.

"Probably better for you than caffeine," she says, before ducking her head again, concentrating on carefully breaking each egg into the fry pan, methodically tapping each one against the cast iron side until a steady crack has formed, enough that her fingers can gently pry each shell open to let the insides slip out. I take the aspirin, placing it in the centre of my tongue, and gulping down the water thirstily, letting it push the pill down my throat, caught in the steady tide of the gushing liquid as I drain half the glass. When I place it back down I lay my head on my arms and watch Holly cook. This is surprisingly soothing, taking in the careful and methodical way in which she prepares her food, her expression calm, moving about her work, until she has a plate of toast and steaming scrambled eggs and lightly fried mushrooms. She looks up at me and smiles back softly when she finds my gaze already lingering on her lazily and half lidded.

She takes a seat beside me at the breakfast bar to eat, quickly devouring the food in silence, and when she finishes she turns to me, far more sympathetic now, and tugs gently at my arm.

"I think you ought to go back to bed," she tells me, pulling at my t-shirt until I loose my balance and stumble off of the stool, and then leading me out of the kitchen.

"Bossy boots," I mumble at her, but let her guide me back up the stairs towards my bedroom. She gives me a soft push towards the doorway, and waits at the stairwell as I walk inside and collapse back onto my bed tiredly. Minutes or maybe longer later, I am not quite sure as my sense of time seems distorted, I hear her coming back down the stairs quickly.

"Hollllllly," I call out pathetically. A moment later I see her head peek around the edge my door, hair pulled back messily and her glasses sliding down her nose. She looks rushed and stressed, her heavy bag slung over one shoulder and hands gripping tight around the strap as she looks at me questioningly.

"Good luck," I tell her, grinning despite the fact that it hurts to do so, and then adding, "Glad to see you're wearing your own clothes today. Are they clean? Or is that too much to expect." I laugh as she frowns at me, shaking her head, and sticking out her tongue childishly. It peeks out from between her lips, rosy pink, and then disappears again quickly, her mouth quirking up at one side, and I feel my stomach squirm in an odd way, most likely from all the liquor still battling my insides.

"So you're feeling well enough to make fun of me now, huh? I have lost all sympathy. Enjoy your sleep tool, and feel better soon," she tells me, before slipping back out again, leaving my bedroom door ajar. I listen to her footsteps as they clunk hurriedly down the wooden stairs to the front door, and the sound of it closing heavily behind her, and then at sometime soon thereafter I seem to drift off again, slipping back gladly into sleep.

...

When I do finally make it out of bed sometime later that day, headache lessened but not gone, to rummage the kitchen for more aspirin, I find Dov doing the same. His hangover however I concede is a little worse than mine, as he tells me that he spent several hours this morning puking. I make a mental note not to use the bathroom downstairs again for a long time. We both fill up large glasses of water, take aspirin and settle on the couch watching cartoons with the volume on low. This is the state Holly finds us both in when she arrives home from class, Dov curled up on one end of the lounge with a blanket thrown over him, and me sitting at the other, knees pulled up to my chest, clutching the remote. She shakes her head disapprovingly as she leans over the back of the lounge, letting her bag fall heavily off of her shoulder to clunk down against the floor boards loudly.

"Is he asleep?" she whispers, indicating with her head towards Dov, who I now note does seem to have drifted off, his eyes closed heavily and his mouth partially open. I giggle and nod my head, switching the television off and adjusting into a better position to look up at her as she leans over.

"How did your test go?" I ask, voice at average volume, caring little if I wake Dov up. An expression flitters over Holly's features of mild surprise, either that I am asking or that I have remembered, I am not sure which. She uses her closed hand to gently push her glasses back, even though they don't really seemed to have slipped at all, her head tilted slightly to the side, and dark hair tumbling over her arms in tangled curls.

"Not too bad," she replies with a light shrug. I narrow my eyes, observing her carefully, and take from her more relaxed demeanour, now in total opposition to this morning, that she is probably being modest and has done quite well. Her arms are laid across the top of the sofa back, hands hanging down just above my shoulder, the tips of her fingers just brushing against my exposed skin where my t-shirt has slid off of one side as she pulls back to stand up straight again. She reaches up her arms, stretching them out and rolling her shoulders. When she lets them hang back by her side again she raises her eyebrows, and i realise that I am kind of staring. I try to cover this by giving her a stoic, dubious look, as though it is her who is being weird, and then climbing up off of the couch, my bare feet sinking into the soft shaggy rug that stretches out like a small lake between the sofa and the television. I love the feel of it against my feet, and walk tenderly along it until I find myself at the book shelf, running my fingers over the spines of the collection of comic books, some of which look reasonably old, others brand new, and then come to the science periodicals, pulling one out and perusing the cover. Nothing but long weird words, this may as well be written in french. I glance up to find Holly watching me curiously from beside the couch.

"Do you actually  _read_  this stuff?" I ask her incredulously as I flip through the pages, only the brighter diagrams and images catching my eye. She laughs and nods her head as she walks around toward me.

"My father actually wrote a lot of that stuff," she tells me, voice brimming with pride as she says so. I flip back to the cover again, my eyes seeking out her last name anywhere and finding the lead article, authored by Alexander H. Stewart. I raise my eye brows, giving an approving nod which I am sure closely resembles that of Steve's upon first viewing the townhouse. Holly reaches my side, and leans around me to pull out another one, probably the most worn looking of all of them, bent and a little dog eared.

"This one is my favourite," she tells me, running her hands over the cover gently, and I find myself smiling, or more like grinning, at this total nerd who has a favourite scientific article by her father. She has obviously taken after him. She looks up and takes note of my expression, and her cheeks blush deep crimson again, head ducking so that her dark hair falls in front of it like a shield as she slips it back onto the shelf.

"You will have to explain what it is about to me sometime," I tell her as I put back the one that I have been holding as well, and my finger runs along the shelf to linger under the comics, "The comics however? I don't think you can explain away  _that_  nerd-dom," I laugh, taking out a Wonder Woman comic, and thumbing through the pages casually.

"Well, Wonder Woman is  _hot_ ," she tells me flippantly, "So,  _that_  one at least, I think I get a nerd-free card on." I look up, eyebrows raised, and shake my head at her.

"No, that just earns you  _pervy_  nerd-dom," I tell her, "Well done, you are now a dork  _and_  a creep. What a catch," I mock, elbowing her gently before i return the comic to it's shelf, and gaze up at the vast collections of books above us. When I look back down Holly has an unreadable smile on her face before she turns and walks back around to where she has left her bag, picking it up and heaving the weighty object back onto her shoulder.

"I should ditch this back in my room and flick back over my notes again, while it's all still fresh in my head," she explains as she walks back towards the stairs.

"Reeeeeally not helping your nerdy image," I tell her with a grin as she ascends towards the next level, and I watch her giggle at my comment just before she disappears from view.

...


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Gail somehow ends up agreeing to go for runs with Dov and Holly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you so so so much for the very kind people who comment/review :) It means so much to me!
> 
> And for those who leave constructive feedback - I always take it into consideration !
> 
> I am super nervous about the end section of this chapter and a little bit of my Gail characterization there (I mean, more so than usual :P). ... basically, I hope you don't hate it.
> 
> ...

I will admit to the fact that I am hardly the neatest or cleanest person. And I can only assume that in normal situations this would be a very bad trait when sharing a house with two other people. However Dov is kind of just as messy as I am. He leaves his shit everywhere, and only really bothers to clean anything up, or wash dirty dishes, when Holly is around to see him do so. I however am at least  _consistently_  untidy and lazy about chores. We have been living with Holly for three or so weeks now. How odd to think that, it seems like time has flown past so fast. We seem to have fallen into a kind of odd, yet coherent dynamic between the three of us, with me and Dov attending college three days a week, and Holly at University at least five, excluding when she goes to study in the library. I have about three or four shifts a week a Starbucks. And the pay is kind of shit, but my rent is cheap, and sometimes my supervisor lets me have free coffee, and when Holly comes in between classes I never let her pay, and sometimes we walk home together and take the long way back through campus. So it's kind of worth it.

There is some kind of haphazard washing system, that has no real rules but appears to work. And Holly seems to clean up after us a lot. It's kind of cute. No, not cute, that's not the right word. Nice, in a mildly irritating kind of OCD way. I will finish my breakfast before college, usually leftover chinese food, or just a large cup of coffee, and she will sweep around the kitchen as she is cooking her own breakfast and clear away my dishes absent-mindedly. Sometimes I find that she has put my shoes away neatly, or returned clothes to my room. Recently she seems to have done some subtle rearranging of my t-shirt draw into neat colour coordinated piles. I say nothing and she says nothing, and she doesn't seem remotely resentful at doing any of these things.

One day we are in the kitchen and Holly is cooking and Dov is irritatingly trying to help her, though I should note he isn't very much help, and I am sitting at the counter watching in amusement. A third person in the kitchen would really just be a hinderance at this point I am sure. I note happily that we seem to have pulled Holly further and further out of the study bubble of her room, more frequently joining us for dinner now, or staying to chat with me at breakfast, though I have yet to convince her to come out drinking with us.

Dov is standing around for a moment with nothing to do, as even though I am sure there are things Holly could use help with I get the feeling she would rather do it herself. So he takes the opportunity to approach me where I sit at the breakfast bar.

"Gail, I have talked with Holly, and she has agreed to let us start coming on her morning jogs with her. You know, to start getting fit for the PREP test." He grins as though this is the best idea he has ever had. I glower back at him unhappily. The last think I want is for Holly to see the horror that is me exercising. Let's forget the sight of me in gym gear (do I even own gym gear anymore? I'm reasonably sure that when I turned seventeen I gave up all exercise possible - trying to make up for the last seventeen years of all the fitness and training my parents put me through), I would have to say that my running form is not just bad and un-streamline, it is actually possibly comical. Not to mention, the PREP test is a year way. And I am not fond of exercise. Or early mornings, which is when I know Holly goes jogging. Holly is giving me an apologetic look from behind Dov's large head, and this softens my resistance, somehow resulting in me agreeing against my better judgement.

"And, you really need to start abiding by my caffeine ban."

"Don't push it Dov, if you want me to get up at dawn I will need my caffeine more that ever."

...

I hit snooze on my alarm five times, so drowsy that I am barely conscious of doing so, and then as it is going off for the sixth time my bedroom door bursts open, and there is Dov, in a bright coloured singlet and gym shorts, a both traumatising and comical image to wake up to, walking in, hands on hips.

"Gail Peck, get your ass out of bed," he tells me. He is grinning. Who grins at quarter to six in the morning? I groan and throw my pillow towards him, and he ducks out of the way just in time, letting it slam against my chest of draws behind him instead, and then flop to the ground. He seems even more energised by this, smirking at the fact that I have failed to hit him with my projectile.

"Come onnnnn," he whines, walking up to the edge of my bed and tugging at my pyjama shirt. It is his mistake to come within an arms reach of me, and I flail an arm out towards him sleepily, my reflexes admittedly a little slower than usual. My hands grazes what I hope to god is just material, and he jumps back out of the way. Some kind of garbled word I intend to mean 'go away' comes out of my mouth, and he ( _finally_ ) leaves the room. However minutes later I hear footsteps outside my door again before it creaks open. I try to bury further beneath the covers, sinking into their warmth like a cocoon. I am reasonably content, although slowly running out of oxygen, in the dark folds of the doona, when I feel what I assume to be my pillow land on top of me, and then moments later I feel the mattress shift as someone leans against it.

"Gail?" Holly's gentle voice penetrates my warm cave, and brings be back to consciousness rather quickly, as I imagine her expression at my childish antics, and feel mildly embarrassed. I slowly slide back up until my head peeks out from underneath, and the bright morning light that has made it's way into my room pushes against my closed eyelids. I am aware of the fact that my hair is probably a tangled, static mess.

"Morning sleepy head." I squint up to find her standing over me, knees resting against the side of the mattress. Her hair is tied up in a high, neat pony tail, and she blinks down at me through the frames of her glasses, eyes bright. She is wearing tight, black nike exercise pants, and a turquoise shirt made of light material, both of which hug to her form, which now stripped back of her puffy jackets, loose shirts, and track pants, is actually in unbelievable form. I try not to stare. And then I notice that mug of hot coffee she is holding out towards me, and without even needing to try I grin from ear to ear, wiggling up further to sit against the wall, and accept the cup from her.

"I think we are going to be good friends, Holly," I tell her tiredly as I lift the cup to my mouth. She smiles at me, amused, and starts to walk back out of my room, and I watch her go, probably a little more intently than I should.

"I thought we already  _were_  friends," she tells me, pausing as she reaches the door to glance back. I give her a smirk over the ceramic rim.

"You're probably right. I wouldn't get up this early for just anyone."

"I thought you were doing this for Dov?"  _That head tilt_. Her hair swings with the movement, brushing against her shoulder.

"Trust me, I would  _never_  do this for Dov." She smiles cryptically as she closes the door behind her, and I feel warmth flush through my body, from the coffee entering my system.

"Five minutes! And if you're not in the shower, I will drag the covers off of you," she calls back to me from the other side. I smile, jolted out of wandering thoughts, and sip the coffee slowly, letting the caffeine slowly settle in and begin to work it's magic. Holly has tried to tell me that it actually takes an hour to have any effect, and therefore that buzz I think I get after the first mouthful is all in my head, but even if that is so, if it works, it works, who cares if it's all in my crazy brain. Although I enjoy these facts and tidbits that she drops at random more than I let on. I like the weird, nerdy way that her brain works. It's kind of fascinating.

...

Never have I hated Dov more than now. And I must admit that at this point, my affection for Holly is lessened as well. She is far ahead of me, making elegant strides down the path. Dov is just in front of me, struggling to stay that way, but persevering out of the pure need to impress Holly. I pretty much gave up all hope of that when I walked into the living room in my 'exercise gear', which consisted of my old physical education shirt from college, the very one that Holly had borrowed, and a pear of loose, short, grey pyjama shorts I kind of figured could double as gym shorts. Maybe. Well they would have to do in any case, as I have nothing else. I am reasonably certain that Holly sniggered upon my entrance, and then tried to pass it off as a sneeze.

My pace has already lessen to a pathetically slow jog, and even so, my heart rate is beating up into my ear drums. I finally come to a stop, and my head swims with the sudden lack of movement, and I lean over, hands clutch my slightly bent knees as I let my pony tail swing down over my shoulder to hang beside my face. I pant heavily, the breath coming out fast and laboured, and glance back up, cheeks feeling hot, and limbs sweaty, to gauge how long it may take Holly to realise that I have been left far behind. However she glances over her shoulder at this precise moment and catches my gaze, just before it fell a little lower. I think my face gets, if possible, warmer. She slows her fast pace to a light jog and then turns on her heels and comes jogging back towards me. I see Dov in front of me, his head snapping back up more engaged as he sees Holly approach, and then his shoulders slump slightly when she jogs right past him to me. She stops in front of me, but doesn't actually  _stop_  altogether, she is now jogging on the spot before me.

"You really  _are_  out of shape," she tells me, reaching a hand forward to gently push at my shoulder. I look up at her, eyes piercing in my displeasure at both being teased and at her unexplainable energy so early in the morning. She grins back at me happily and finally stops jogging, leaning forward so we are at eye level and placing a soft hand on my upper arm.

"Come on Peck, you can do it." I think this was her attempt at sounding like a drill sergeant or something. It is kind of cute in a dorky, slightly fail way. She's too endearing to be commanding. I shake my head at her and try to suppress a laugh.

"What are my chances of having a heart attack from over exertion?" I ask melodramatically, tilting my head slightly to one side as I squint past the bright morning sun streaming down through the maples leaves directly into my eye sight. She stands up straight, the light touch of her hand falling away again as though it were never there and leaving the light ghost of the contact behind, a kind of empty cold feeling where her fingers once pressed against the material of my t-shirt sleeve. Her smile is goading me on.

"Judging from your diet, quite plausible. But if you beat me to the park bench down the path, I'll shout you coffee on the way home," she tells me lightly. The last word is barely out of her mouth before I am up and sprinting past her as fast as my legs can take me. Which isn't actually particularly fast. My head start is more than needed, I can soon hear her footsteps heavy and fast on the concrete behind me. I can see the park bench, its flaking paint a dark green glinting in the rising sun. But I am still metres from it when she comes rushing past me, in perfect form, her long legs and neat stride taking her quickly on past me. She reaches the park bench far before me, and takes a casual seat on it before I come stumbling behind her. My hands find the wooden bench beside her and I lean down against it, breathless.

"Never. Again." I tell her between staggered, heavy breathing. She is smiling at me, not in the kind of cocky way that Dov does when he beats me at something. I can't describe it. I don't know how to. But I grin back, somehow, and give her a playful shove with the last energy I have left before I collapse onto the bench beside her.

"You still owe me coffee," she tells me as I let my head fall against her sweaty shoulder while we wait for Dov to catch up.

...

I am lying on my bed with a textbook sitting on top of my face like a tent, keeping out the light. I was at some point trying to study, and that some how ended up with me taking a nap with my books. I am contemplating a study snack when I feel my phone vibrate on the bed beside me, sending waves through the mattress. I reach blindly for it, my hand making contact with the firm object. I sit up, and let the book slide down off of my face. Something washes over me when I see Holly's name on my screen, surprise at her texting me out of the blue, my heart fluttering for a second. My thumb slides clumsily across the screen to open the message.

h: can you do me a huuuuuuge favour?

I grin and sit up a little further, pushing the book to the side and letting it fall closed as I reply.

g: ... depends what it is

This is a lie. I am undoubtedly going to say yes, unless it involves covering up a murder. … actually, even then… I am thinking a little too in-depth about what I would really do if Holly  _did_  ask me to help her cover up a murder, which has spiralled into pondering over if she would really start out asking me such by saying 'can you do me a huge favour?" - it doesn't really seem like the lead in question to "i accidentally killed someone, can you help me get rid of the body?" - when my phone vibrates again.

h: I'm at the library and i forgot a book and i really need it but i have so much work do to get this report done in time

I smirk, pausing for a second to make her sweat, before typing back.

g: ... which book?

I wiggle my way to the edge of the bed, my feet slipping off the sides so that my legs dangle down, sock clad toes grazing the carpet as I stretch my arms. I glance back at my still awaiting textbook where it sits forlornly amongst the messy covers, pages bent from the way it had fallen. My phone vibrates again, and when I look back down lazily at the item pressed to my palm, I see that this time it is a call. I quickly answer, pressing it to my ear, to hear Holly's voice echoing down the line, sounding so familiar and yet so alien. This is the first time I have ever heard her 'phone voice'.

"Okay, go up to my room," she directs me. I walk out of my bedroom and up the staircase.

"Well, hello to you too nerd," I tease as I walk up, socks slippery on the wood. I take quick, tentative steps, one hand firmly gripping the guardrail as I bound up excitedly. Finally, a chance to explore Holly's bedroom with full permission. … That really should't be so exciting, I sound like such a creep.

"I'm so sorry, sometimes I get a little socially inept when I'm stressed," Holly replies apologetically, her embarrassment spilling down the phone line so clearly I can picture her rosy cheeks, "Well, I mean, I am quite often socially inept in various social situations, but when I'm stressed I sometimes forget, like, common curtesy, type, things, and now I'm rambling… Did I mention that this report is worth a  _lot_?" I laugh at her as I reach the top step and lean against the banister, quite taken with her nervous babbling.

"Hol, it's fine. Now, book?" I ask. If I try to use any more words than that I am quite certain I would end up complimenting her, something that I don't really like or do very often to anyone. I hear her breathe out heavily, and when she replies I am certain I can actually hear the smile in her voice as she instructs me to the books location. I am trying to take in the room as I follow her instructions. I get a start when I spot a large skeleton standing in one corner, my heart beating up into my chest ferociously, before rationality sets in.

"You have a  _skeleton_!" I exclaim loudly, interrupting her mid sentence as she is trying to describe the bag her textbook should be in.

"Oh, that's Geoff," she tells me calmly, as though it is no big deal, "He was my dad's, from way back. Now, concentrate Gail, and stop snooping. It's like a duffle bag type thing, kind of grey, it should be under my bed." I kneel down and lift up the doona where it hangs down over the edge of the mattress, noting with great amusement that her quilt set is astrologically themed, and glance beneath.

"Holly, why do you own, like, four grey duffle bags?" I ask her incredulously. I hear her laugh awkwardly.

"Oh, uhm, I kept loosing them and buying another, and then I found all the ones I lost, and… this is a really boring story. It should be the one with a pink strap," she tells me. Shaking my head, I reach in, grabbing said bag and yanking it onto my lap. It weighs a tone, which is a solid indication that this is the one containing her textbooks, because I have seen her books, and they all seem like they could be used as hand weights for a serious workout. I yank open the zipper, and pull out the book, relieved. As I am standing back up I run my gaze over her desk, her post it notes and calendars, her drafts pile, her neat binders of class handouts, her borrowed library books in three piles depending on how useful they might be. My eyes catch a picture frame on the top right corner shelf as I am mid sentence of telling Holly I will be there shortly.

"Holly, is this photo of you?" I ask.

"What? What photo?" Holly replies quickly, sounding slightly alarmed. I grin, unsure why I find it so amusing to rile the brunette up. I pick the photo up, running a thumb over the glass to brush away the thin layer of dust that has settled over it.

"This adorable," I stop myself, that's a compliment Gail, "if not,  _incredibly_  dweeby looking kid wearing an oversized doctors coat, grinning at the camera over her thick rimmed black glasses." I am reasonably certain I can hear Holly dying of embarrassment.

"I am not at liberty to answer that," she tells me curtly.

"Okay, okay," I laugh, "I will be there soon stress-head." After I hang up, shoving the phone into my pocket, I take one last look at the photograph. She couldn't be older than eight or nine in this picture. Her dark brown hair even then was so full and thick, the way it falls in gentle waves around her petite shoulders. Her hazel eyes are bright. She is sitting on the floor, a book in front of her and a pen in her hand, beaming from ear to ear, the white coating falling around her small form in large folds and bunching around her elbows, one hand lost entirely in the sleeve. The room behind her is out of focus but looks vaguely familiar. I am about to put it back down when I notice a weird dark shape in the bottom corner. I wipe my thumb over it to remove the dust, revealing a message scrawled in marker, in horribly messy writing.

"To our little Doctor to be, Happy 18th birthday." A part of me feels awkward, as though I am intruding in on a private moment. And a part of me feels sad. And a part of me feels so much affection for the girl in that picture, for that brimming smile, that I have not yet seen shine so bright as it does in this photograph. I long to make her laugh again, to smile that bright. I frown, placing the photography back down, and shaking my head, as though shaking off such a sappy moment.

…

I text Holly as I enter the library, and get the cryptic reply 'second level, chemistry section, row 12'. I smirk and jog up the stairs. The second level is far quieter than the first, a jungle of book shelves in dim fluorescent lighting. My footsteps sound loud as I try my best to tip toe around. I get lost twice before I find the chemistry section. My eyes scan the shelves carefully as I creep through, heavy book bag on one shoulder, and one hand under the flap of my jacket, where I hold the large coffee I smuggled in. The librarian didn't even glance at me twice, but I still felt so inconspicuous, not-so-subtly holding the cup under one side of my jacket, other arm crossed over it awkwardly as I shuffled through. I reach row twelve and peer in. Holly is sitting at the end of the row, on the floor with her back against the wall, books spread out around her, laptop on her lap, chewing on the end of her pen. She looks adorable. She looks like a grown up, far more serious version of the photograph in her bedroom. I swallow and step cautiously into the aisle, producing the book from my bag and the coffee from inside my jacket, and holding them both out earnestly as I walk towards her. When she looks up she grins from ear to ear, glasses sitting at an angle over her nose and long hair pulled back away from her face, two smalls wisps on either side falling down to rest against her cheekbones.

"Textbook, and as a bonus, coffee," I proclaim, as though this somehow isn't obvious from the two items I am offering down towards her. She smirks as she takes them out of my hands, placing the book on top of her pile, and bringing the coffee straight to her lips. She swallows contently, and then looks back up at me, expression soft and sincere.

" _Thank you_ , Gail, you are a lifesaver," she insists, resting her head back against the wall, "I'm so sorry to make you walk all the way here." I give a non-committal shrug, as though it it no big deal. It's not like it's  _that_  far, when we live five minutes from the start of the campus. I shift awkwardly from foot to foot for a moment. Why do I feel nervous? I bite back the nerves, and try to appear casual.

"I uhm, I brought my book with me. I figured, you know, I may as well get some study done, since I'm coming all the way to the library. I keep getting distracted at home anyway," I tell her with a sheepish smile. I can't imagine  _Holly_ ever falling asleep while studying unless it's her second all-nighter in a row. Holly smiles brightly.

"Oh, good. Study buddy!" she proclaims, and then cringes, "That sounded  _so_  lame, didn't it? Oh god. Take a seat, and feel free to ignore my rambling," she laughs, running a hand over her hair and lifting the coffee to her mouth again before adding, "I definitely needed this!"

After three hours I have finished my reading, answered all the tutorial questions for the next class, and gotten over the short-lived entertainment of reading the book spines from my seat on the floor opposite Holly. I am contemplating taking another nap when I hear a loud gurgling sound, and we both look up at the same time, her cheeks red as I realise that this is the sound of her stomach. I glance at my watch, it is six in the evening, and god knows how long she was here before I arrived. I start packing up the books around her, much to her protest.

"No no no," I insist, "You can come back and study after, but you need some food." As I pack away her books into piles and her belongings into her bag, I note that I am doing so far more carefully than I ever would my own. When I finish and stand up, offering her my hand, she still looks uncertain.

"Come on Nerd, even your brain doesn't run on solar power. You need some food if you're going to get this thing done," I tell her. She smiles finally, and reaches up to accept my hand, fingers tightening around my own as she let's me pull her to her feet. There is a little asian place on the corner of the next building over, and I tell her that once my parents left me home alone for two weeks straight and I lived off of ramen noodles, so she suggests we eat here. I think it is more the close vicinity to the library that really sold her though. I hold the door open and she ducks through gracefully, walking up to the counter. We order and take a seat and I am quietly observing her when she speaks again.

"When was that?" she asks. My brain halts for a moment, confused, before realising that she is continuing the conversation from before.

"Oh, when I was like, I dunno, eleven?" I reply nonchalantly as I rip the paper rapping off of my chopsticks and roll them between my palms. Someone once told me this was the best way to break them apart, but it never seems to work, and then I end up feeling stupid, so I quickly stop and pull them apart. Holly is giving me a weird look.

"Eleven?" she asks, baffled. I give a small nod as I look up towards the counter hungrily, but our food isn't ready yet.

"Yea."

"All on your own?" she asks again, and I look back towards her, amused by the deep concern she is showing.

"Well, Steve, my brother, had moved out by then, but he stopped in to check on me once or twice. We have really good security though. Anyway, my parents are pretty big on independence. They have never once helped me with my homework. But I was fine. Like, I took rigerous self defence classes from the age of seven. And I knew all the key exit and entrance point of the house. And I had the chief of police on speed dial, who lived a couple of streets away," I shrug mildly. I'm not really big on sharing. I don't think I have ever told Dov any of this stuff, and I not really sure why I am blabbing away to Holly now.

"So, that photo..." I change the subject, grinning at Holly, who is now glaring at me over the top of her glasses, "You were a surprisingly cute kid." She laughs, shaking her head at me disbelievingly, but it is true. She is damn cute. Was. Was cute. I frown and drag my chopsticks over the table in figure eights.

"I was a  _total_  dweeb," she confesses gently, "Well, still am I total dweeb. But, from the age of  _four_  I decided I was going to be a Doctor when I grew up, just like my dad was. And I would always wear his doctors coat, even though, it was ridiculously too big for me. He gave it to me when he retired and became a professor at the uni full time and it was like, my most prized possession as a kid. And I would do my science colouring books on the floor in his study while he graded papers. Oh my god, I am rambling away now, I'm sorry." She gives me a shy smile and ducks her head, elegant brown hair shifting around her face, slipping off her shoulders and forming a curtain around her face. I shake my head and reach my chopsticks to gently poke her hands where they are resting on the table.

"Keep rambling, nerd. Was his study by any chance that room, on my level of the house?" I prod further nosily, "It just looked a lot like it, in the photo." Holly looks back up, with an expression on her face that says she thinks I am asking this out of like, pity or something.

"Yea, yea, the room that opens out onto the balcony. He used to have his old desk in that space in front of the middle window," she replies wistfully, "And he used to have an old record player in the corner. I always remember him playing old records like Cole Porter and Ella Fitzgerald. And my mother was constantly telling him to turn down the volume." She gives a semi smile and crooks her head at me.

"You don't really seem the type to listen to someone's lame childhood stories without make a squeak Gail, or at least throwing out a teasing comment or two," she adds. I feel my cheeks go warm as i realise that this is entirely true, but I don't seem to  _have_  a comeback right now. What mean thing can you say to a girl who has just told you her fondest childhood memory of her now dead parents. I give her a stoic shrug.

"You're such a dork," I tell her, rising to my feet, "Our foods ready."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually have a notebook in which I plan out this story, but most of it is filled with doodles/illustrations (such as Holly wearing Gail's tshirt, and sitting on the library floor when Gail brings her coffee and her book). They are terribly bad and usually in pen, but if you're ever interested in seeing any of them, message me on tumblr and I could post some. :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Wow, it feels like ages since I last wrote any of this. I had to take some time of for exams, and then I just got really stuck.
> 
> To anyone who has bothered to return, thank you so much for continuing to read, and I really hope that you enjoy!
> 
> (I'll try to update quicker next time :P)

...

It is a Sunday morning at 11:30am and I am lying in bed, too awake to keep sleeping, but too cosy to get up, wrapped in the covers. Sunday is one of the blissful days when I am not dragged from my bed at six in the morning to go on a run. Although i must say I am improving, because I am only a little dead now after we get back, rather than completely dead. I look sideways at my clock and make the tentative decision that, yea, it's probably time to crawl out of bed and get myself a piping hot cup of coffee. I wiggle towards the edge of the mattress, which sags under my weight, further propelling me towards the exit. One cautious hand ventures out from under the covers. It's not  _cold_ , but it is colder than under my deliciously warm quilt. I frown to myself as I try to make the decision, venture out or stay here safe and comfortable in my cocoon? I am about to try to close my eyes again when I hear a loud laugh from downstairs. Holly's laugh. Without really thinking about it my legs are slipping out from underneath the covers, the blankets are falling away as I sit up, and my bare feet are landing squarely on the floor. I stand up and stretch my arms above my head, my pyjama shirt rising and letting the cool air brush against my exposed stomach. I lick my lips tentatively and pad slowly out of my room, still a little sleepy. One hand runs over my hair and finds it knotted and static-y. I groan and walk downstairs - coffee first - to find Holly and Dov on the couch in the living room. I can smell popcorn, and I wander over sleepily to where they are avidly discussing something, Holly pausing mid sentence and looking up as I arrive at the back of the lounge behind them, leaning over to take a handful of popcorn from the bowl sitting in her lap.

"Morning," she tells me, amused as she watches me shovel the food into my mouth.  _Mmmm_. It's warm and crunchy and salty and buttery. Although I do taste a hint of burnt, so I decide that Dov was allowed the task of cooking the popcorn. I swallow and lick my lips sleepily and give Holly a tired smile, leaning down to rest my elbows on the couch back and my chin on one hand.

"Morrrrrning," I reply, "what are you nerds up to?" I ask, attention directed specifically at Holly as I reach one hand back down towards the popcorn bowl. I miss and first grab her hand, resting on the plastic edge to hold it steady, which I quickly pretend not to notice as my fingers brush over the back of her skin and quickly down into the popcorn, closing around another handful. Holly's cheeks go slightly pink, and she quickly swats at my hand, moving the bowl out of my grasp as I shove what I managed to retain in my grip into my open mouth again.

"Oi!" I mutter through my mouthful, before turning my gaze back towards Dov to find him glaring at me unhappily.

" _Us nerds_  are having a Doctor Who marathon," he tells me, with a look in his eyes that says he wants me to get lost. I am torn for a moment, irritate Dov by sticking around while he is creepily trying to bond with Holly? Or leave and enjoy the amusement from the kitchen of listening to poor Holly unknowingly find herself on an awkward sort of date with Dov? Decisins decisions. I roll my eyes dramatically at the two of them as I stand back up.

"I have to get new room mates," I scoff, crossing my arms and shaking my head at the two of them. Holly smirks.

"You love us," she insists. I wrinkle my nose in a dismissive expression.

"I tolerate you," I tell her as I take a step back towards the kitchen smugly. Holly raises her eyebrows at me, one arm coming to lean across the back of the sofa as she talks to me. Dov is still looking very unimpressed at my lingering presence.

"You do realise that you rent in my house, right?" Holly asks, amused, throwing a piece of popcorn towards me. I laugh, and reach out to grab it quickly, my reflexes surprisingly intact despite my previously sleepy state. Without a single hit of caffeine I somehow seem to have been pulled from my usual 'just woke up slumber'. I drop the single kernel of popcorn into my mouth as I take the step into the threshold leading to the kitchen.

"Slight flaw in my plan, but I'm sure I can work around it," I shrug before I turn the corner into the kitchen. As I walk in, one hand running over the bench top lazily, I find that I am grinning. The realisation quickly turns my smile into a quizzical frown as I put a fresh pot of coffee on. I lean back against the bench top, the hard stone pressing against my lower back as i wait. In the other room I hear Dov and Holly recommence discussion.

"I think we should definitely recommence from Nine." Her voice is soft but affirming. I listen absentmindedly as I turn to pull a mug out of the cupboard. When I hear that laugh again, that loud bright laugh that fills the room, I change my mind. It  _would_  be mean of me after all to leave poor Holly alone in there with Dov. I pour my coffee and stroll back into the living room again. Dov is deep in the middle of saying something to Holly as he puts in the first disc, but her attention snaps up towards me as she sees me enter. I make a beeline for the sofa, and take a seat directly in the middle. Dov looks up, surprised, and then a little more than unimpressed when he sees me casually relaxing back into the sofa directly between where he will sit and where Holly is.

"So, Doctor Who marathon, huh?" I ask, smiling at him in mock excitement as I take a sip of my coffee, "Is that literally his name?" I can see Holly giggle out of the corner of my eye, and I watch Dov take a deep breath before returning to the couch.

"No, Gail, that is not his name."

I think by the third episode Dov is well and truly pissed at me. Was it the interruption to his one on one Holly time that was going too far, or the repeated questions throughout the show, I am not sure, but he has nudged me  _quite_ firmly in the side several times in the last hour. As the the title sequence comes on, he rises to his feet, declaring that he is going to get a drink rather moodily.

"… Want anything Holly?" he then adds, expression and tone suddenly friendly. Holly smiles and shakes her head.

"No I'm fine. Gail?" she turns her head to me. I see the look on Dov's face and know better than to ask him to get me a soda right now. I shake my head, and turn my gaze back to the television screen again, humming along to the theme music. I reach for another piece of popcorn and manage to grab Holly's hand, again. If anyone is going to come across as hitting on her today, I think it is going to be me. I cringe, quickly letting go, my fingertips ghost over the back of hand, tracing the hills of her knuckles as they find their way down into the bowl to grasp at the few remaining kernels. I swallow quietly, mouth dry from all the salty popcorn, and keep my eyes trained to the television screen.

"Gail, are you trying to hold my hand?" Holly asks. My cheeks burn red as I turn my gaze back towards her face in the dimly lit room, and find her smirking back at me, amused at her own wit.  _Oh, she's making a joke_. I roll my eyes at her, eye brows raised and mouth stoically straight.

"You wish, Hol," I scoff, popcorn still in my mouth, the crushed kernels sitting on the middle of my tongue as I speak and one or two small pieces of debris flying out. She bursts out laughing, her glasses slipping down the bridge of her nose.

"Yes Gail, because you are obviously  _such_  a catch," she replies, head titled to the side. Her rich hazel eyes are sparkling over the frames of her glasses.

"Well  _obviously_ ," I tell her matter-of-factly. Something about the sight of Holly with her hair tumbling down in soft, dark spirals over her shoulder, her head just tilted, her wide eyes trained on me, and glasses angled off kilter in that way she hates. I frown unconsciously and reach a hand up to her face and gently push her glasses back up into place, my fingers brushing her cheek as I pull them back again. And I've kind of noticed before I guess, but maybe jsut never realised that I was noticing, that sometimes her eyes change shade with her mood. Now they are darkening, their deep tones shifting as they stare back at me.

"We're all out of orange juice,  _again_ ," Dov's voice comes from the other room loudly, pulling my attention back, my head twisting around towards the kitchen to yell back at him. I do vaguely remember late last night toddling into the kitchen and draining the last of the orange juice, directly out of the bottle. I was thirsty.

"Buy some," I tell him.

"It's  _your_  turn." I fold my arms over my chest, even though he can't see me.

"It is  _not!"_ I insist. I distinctly remember just days ago waking to the shops specifically to buy more orange juice. I feel the couch shift beneath me and turn my head back to see Holly as she rises to her feet to leave. But not before gently throwing a cushion at me, which hit's me square in the face. I glare at her, hair I am certain now an even  _worse_  mess than before.

"You two are so immature," she mocks, shaking her head as she makes her way around towards the stairs. I watch her ascend, until her bare feet disappear up around the corner, and then slump back into my seat. The episode is still playing, but I'm not overly interested anymore. Dov comes back around the corner, stops two steps into the living room, and pierces me with his gaze.

"Where did Holly go?" he asks. I bite the inside of my mouth, and give a sort of shrug thing. He rolls his eyes at me and takes a seat on the sofa, glass of water in hand, and reaches for the remote, turning up the volume.

"Well, I guess at least you're finally watching Doctor Who," he admits, giving a sideways glance towards me to find me giving him a sheepish smile.

"Well... actually-" I begin.

"No. Oh no no no. You scared Holly off, the least you can do is sit through a couple more episodes with me," he insists, "But, no stupid questions. Only relevant ones."

"A wise man once told me, there is no such thing as a stupid question."

"Oh god, here we go."

...

Only an episode later I insisted on at least taking a break. Dov was resistant until I told him I hadn't showered yet, and then suddenly he turned his nose up and shifted a little further away on the couch, and agreed. I close the bathroom door behind me and walk forward to the edge of the basin to look at myself in the mirror, letting my hands come to rest on the edge of the ceramic bowl. The mirror is surprisingly clean considering the splattering of toothpaste I seem to accidentally give it every time I brush my teeth. The perks of sharing a bathroom with Holly I guess. Not that there is any downside to this either. I tilt my head as my eyes wander over my reflection, the tangled knots of my blonde hair tied back messily, my size too big pyjamas hanging around my frame, and the thin sheen of sweat across my forehead from tossing and turning beneath my covers.  _Ugh_ , I think to myself, turning away and lifting my pyjama shirt up and over my head. I let it fall onto the tiles and then kick it to the side before slipping my fingers between my skin and the elastic of my shorts to wriggle them down over my thighs. They flop in folds of fabric around my ankles, and I kick them away also, the cooling air of the fading season running over my skin as I step into the shower and quickly turn the hot water tap. The pipes creak and groan before showering hot water down in front of me, the spray landing sharply against my bare stomach and shins whilst I wait for the cold water to kick in. As the water drops back to a more even and tolerable temperature I step under and let in rain down onto the top of my head, washing over my face, eyes squeezed tightly shut. I breath out heavily, and for some reason, for a split second, I remember Holly's somewhat endearing face earlier.

A knock comes at the bathroom door, taking me by surprise, and my arm moves up defensively towards the shower curtain before I hear the faint sound of Holly's voice through the thick wooden door. It sounds muffled travelling through wood and water though, and I don't understand a word that she says.

"What?" I yell back loudly, water falling into my mouth as I open it unthinkingly. I spit and pull back the plastic shower curtain just enough to peek my head out, and as I do so I see the bathroom door hesitantly open just a crack.

"I'm going to get lunch, do you want anything?" she asks. I bite my lip as I see her tentative reflection in the mirror, trying to speak in through the opening but keeping her eyes firmly facing down towards the floor.

"Yes, pleasssse," I tell her, pushing back my wet hair, "I'll be out in a minute if you want me to walk with you?" I watch her expression carefully, as the thoughts pass across her face, like an open book when she thinks no-one can see.

"No no that's fine, I feel like a walk. Enjoy your shower. Or, I mean, not enjoy. Because it's a shower, and that sounds a bit weird... I'm going to go now," her cheeks are a soft pink, burning darker as she stands there, expression painfully embarrassed.

"Okay dork," I yell back. I am about to retreat back into the warm water, when I catch her eyes glancing up, and they meet mine momentarily in the reflection, before she quickly yanks the door closed.

...

When I arrive in the kitchen, fully dressed and finally clean, Dov is sitting at the breakfast bar behind his laptop, deep in thought. I take a seat at the opposite end, and he looks up as I do so, and grins a little too happily for my liking.

"I had the  _best_  idea," he tells me. I raise my eyes dubiously, because Dov and that sentence never usually end well for me.

"I highly doubt it," I tell him, leaning on my elbow and craning my neck to glance down at the front door. It remains unfortunately stationary, and so I slouch back into my seat. I turn my attention back towards Dov and finding him still grinning at me excitedly. I sigh and make a gesture for him to continue.

"For Halloween," he begins, and I already know this is going to be bad, "You, me and Holly should all go as Doctor Who characters-"

"No."

"Okay, you didn't even give me a chance. I was going to let you be Rose!"

"You're lucky I'm not close enough to hit you," I threaten, and he holds his hands up in the air in surrender, "And let me guess, you were going to be the Doctor?" I ask him. He smirks and turns his laptop around to face me, to reveal that he is on eBay looking at costumes. I shake my head at him in amusement.

"You know she is never going to date you at this rate," I mock, reaching a foot out to try and kick him lightly, but unable to quite reaching. I hear the front door close loudly, and sit back up, peering around too find Holly in the entry way, arms full of brown paper bags as she kicks of her shoes in a manner that is uncharacteristically Holly and much more in the fashion of myself. She looks up and catches me peeking around the corner, and grins.

"Who is never going to date Dov?" she asks, eyebrows raised.  _Dov is going to kill me_.

"Do you agree that it is  _totally_  lame for us three to dress up as Doctor Who characters for Halloween?" I ask her, quickly deflecting, "And keep in mind nerd, that this answer may impact the foreseeability of our friendship continuing." She lets out a loud laugh as she walks in, the kind that makes me weirdly happy, a crosses the threshold into the kitchen, her eyebrows raised at me.

"Well, in that case, emphatically  _yes_ ," she noods her head, letting the food fall onto the counter, and pushing a bag directly towards me, before pausing, "Oh, don't tell me, where you going to be the Doctor?" she asks him, eyebrows raised disbelievingly, before shaking her head at him and sliding his lunch down the bench.

"Why does everyone think that is such a bad idea?" he asks moodily as she pulls the paper bag in front of him, and reaches in to find his burger, "I think I'd make a great Doctor."

"Please, I'd make a  _way_  better Doctor," Holly replies teasingly, as she walks around to take a seat beside me. Me and Dov both look up, and catch each others gaze. I am remembering the DVD cover that Holly showed me of her favourite Doctor, the one wearing the bow-tie.  _Hmmm, Holly in a suit_. I shake my head and nudge her as she sits down.

"It is nerd city up in here today, I think I need to escape to the library just to raise my cool levels."

"What cool levels?" they both chime in, grinning.

"Oh, shut up and eat your burgers. I'm getting nerdier the more time I spend with you two."


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The all nighter....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I received so many incredibly lovely comments and reviews on my last chapter, and I do try and reply to people individually, but just as a whole, thank you so much to anyone who reads and comments and reviews and reblogs. I am just thrilled there is anyone out there who actually likes this haha
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy this chapter, and the way the story is headed. I was planning to have this written a while ago which is why, awkwardly, the next chapter I was planning to have a little bit of Halloween stuff in. Apologies for my lazy slackness, just transport yourselves back to the end of October and enjoy the Halloween festivity (assuming all writing goes as planned, which is never a certainty with me though :P)
> 
> And I hope you guys don't mind the (atrocious) sketch/doodle/illustrations I did this chapter. I apologise for the fact that there may be more for the next, cos they surprisingly actually helped me get this one written.

...

It is square in the middle of fall and the street is covered in rich browns and oranges, with sporadic lifts of yellow and red. Colour fills the thick trees that lines both sides of the road, and lies heavy on the ground. I made Dov rake the lawn, by gently suggesting this might impress Holly. I don't think she actually noticed. Her mid semester exams are all coming up, and she seems to have almost returned to her old hermit-esque ways, which I am particularly unimpressed with, I think maybe even more so than Dov. Which is weird.

One night it is late and I can't sleep and after tossing and turning for hours I finally give in and trot downstairs to get a midnight snack. I am trudging down the stairs in my oversized t-shirt and shorts, shivering with each step onto the cold wooden panels of the stairs, when my stomach grumbles loudly. I frown down towards it,  _I'm getting you a snack, okay? Be patient_.

Moonlight strikes a clear path through the small window over the front door into the living room as I descend the last step, lighting my way into the kitchen. As I approach however, I note a light from the other room, an electric blue glow emanating from the dinning table area. I walk quietly in, hand resting against the door frame beside me as my eyes adjust to take it in. From behind a bright laptop screen sits Holly, chin resting in her hand, and an expression of deep concentration on her face. I bite my lip, deciding whether or not to disturb her.

"Hey," I whisper towards her. Apparently my decision has been made. She blinks and looks up, surprised, bewildered, and then for a moment she looks happy to see me. Her eyes light up, despite the tiredness that is clear in her posture. She sits up a little taller and gives me a smile.

"What are you doing up so late?" she asks me, a hint of concern lining her words as she takes me in, in the darkly lit room. I smirk at her from the door way and slowly walk towards her, hands on hips. How ironic, that she is concerned for me right now.

"I could ask you the very same question," I tell her pointedly as I reaching the other side of the dining room table and lean my palms against the wooden surface. My hair falls over my shoulders as I give her a stern look over the top of her laptop screen. At this her shoulders slump, the small bubble of happiness at seeing me burst.

"Ugh," she groans unhappily, running a hand over her hair, "You know that stupid report that I have to hand in tomorrow?" She asks. I nod my head.

"I thought you finished that already?" How do I know this? I somehow seem to remember all of her assessments, and yet never my own. I have the creeping feeling I have to hand something in soon, but I don't remember what. Holly smiles up at me, in that way she does when she is pleasantly surprised that I have remembered something about her.

"Yes, that one. Well, it  _was_  finished. And then I was reading over it again, and I remembered something, and I mean technically speaking what I had written was correct, but this makes it like, super correct, if that makes sense? And now I am desperately trying to add it in, but I have to hand it in tomorrow morning before class. So I don't think I will be getting much sleep tonight. Ugh, I'm so annoyed at myself," she rubs her forehead, clearly frustrated, and then leans back in her chair. I shake my head at her dramatically.

"Okay, first things first," I tell her firmly as I walk back towards the kitchen entrance and switch on the lights, "How many times have you told me not to stare at my laptop screen in the dark?" I ask rhetorically, before walking into the kitchen and making a beeline towards the coffee machine, "And also, you need serious caffeination. And snack-idge. You will need lots of snacks." I begin pulling out mugs and sugar and riffling through the cupboard to find where I have hidden all the good snacks, because here I have the opposite problem to when I lived at home, if I leave my snacks in the open Dov eats them all. I gather up a large assortment of snack foods into my arms, and hugging the cargo to my chest, shuffle back over to the dining table as I wait for the coffee machine to heat up. I let the rustling packets spill out next to Holly's laptop, and begin to arrange them in order, explaining to her that there is a precise way to study snack, eating various foods throughout the night to curb the inevitable sugar high and it's aftermath as best as possible.

"It's all very scientific you know," I tell her matter-of-factly.

And this is how I find myself sitting at the dining table in my pyjamas drinking coffee with Holly at three in the morning, talking about everything and nothing at all. I have my knees drawn to my chest, with my feet on the seat of my chair, toes just hanging over the edge. Holly sits in front of her computer, pushing her glasses up into her hair to rub her eyes tiredly, before reaching for the fresh cup of coffee I have just brought her. Number three so far tonight. We are playing twenty questions, we are up to question six and it is my turn and I already seem to have run out of good things to ask. I always was terrible at this game. I rub my temple while she drinks, and try to think of something that isn't totally lame, like when was your first kiss, or how long ago was your last relationship, though these  _are_  things I would like to know about her.

"Uhm okay, what is a weird place you've felt calm and safe?" I ask her, and then cringe, that was actually quite lame, maybe I should have gone with first kiss after all... She pauses, swallowing a mouthful of coffee, her head tilting to the side as she thinks.

"The morgue," she answers slowly. My eyebrows raise instinctively.

"The morgue?" I ask, surprised. I definitely wasn't expecting that one. She bites her lip, teeth chewing at the pink skin nervously. I see a link pink blush spread over the tops of her cheeks.

"Yea." She is suddenly quiet, and so I leave it alone, not wanting to push. I finger the edge of my coffee cup, tracing the ceramic rim softly with my finger tip as I watch her. Her expression is pensive, and then she pushes her hair back behind her ear and looks me in the eye, gaze gentle but firm.

"After my parents," she pauses again, her mouth unable to form the words, and then frowning continues, "I was freaking out. I flew back from Ottawa, where I was doing my undergrad degree, and, I was mad and upset and confused, and I had no  _clue_  what I was doing. Like, that's not supposed to happen, and I was not remotely prepared to deal with any of it, and suddenly I was responsible for everything, and I didn't calm down until... I had to go to the morgue, to ... identify their bodies. And it was cold and quiet and ... the forensic pathologist sat me down on his stool, and he told me what happened, not the regular person soft language, what actually happened. How ... they died quickly, they weren't in pain. He let me stay there in the morgue for a while. And I don't know what it was, but for the first time .. I don't know, I felt calm. Or as calm as you can be. And I felt safe. And I understood. I don't know, is that weird? That's weird." Her cheeks flare crimson again and she shifts in her seat, turning her body back towards her laptop, fingers sliding over the mousepad to wake it up again. I have absolutely no idea what to say right now, or how to react. I am generally a really shit person to have around in situations such as this. I feel like my still silence is making things worse, so I reach out and place my hand gently on her upper arm, squeezing her shoulder, and then let my hand drop away again.

"That's not weird at all," I reply assertively. She glances across at me, those strong and yet gentle eyes catching mine from around the thick frames of her glasses again, and her shoulders relax just a fraction, just enough that I notice (after years of my mother drilling into me about attention to detail being a key skill for a detective). She purses her lips in a very small smile, and then leans back into the stiff wooden back of her chair, her expression changing again quickly.

"Okay, my question. What were you like as a teenager?" she asks curiously, hands still resting against the cold metal of the laptop just beneath the keys, "I'm talking like, fifteen, sixteen. I just, I don't know how to picture you, you don't strike me as a peppy popular girl, _or_  a dweeby nerd. I just can't pick it." I find myself grinning.

"Why exactly have you been trying to picture me?" I ask teasingly, causing her to blush. Three times in a row, a new record. Feeling smug, I concede to her request.

"Okay. I will admit this to you, but it doesn't leave this room,  _ever_ , okay?" I stare her down until she gives me a solemn nod, and then scuffing my foot on the floor, I admit, "Okay, for a short period of time, when I was like fifteen, I went through a... light goth phase." Holly pauses for a second, and then burst out laughing.

"Are you serious?" she asks, bubbling with amusement. I roll my eyes at her, although am glad to have cheered her up again with my embarrassing confession.

"Very. short. period of time," I repeat, "I had a kind of rebellion thing going on. Except of course after carefully being raised by  _my_  parents, I wasn't about to go doing anything stupid like, getting myself a juvenile record, or letting my grades drop, because that would be  _too_  irresponsible. So instead I just drove my mother crazy by wearing a lot of black and way too much eyeliner and blasting really loud metal music from my bedroom," I shrug casually, as though this is no big deal, "And don't even  _ask_ to see a picture, because my mother made sure there were basically none, and any rare few that existed, I long since destroyed." Holly gives a small nod, her lips still turned up at the corners, and I can tell that she is trying to picture it now.

"What about you?" I ask, reaching my foot out to pushing gently against her thigh, and then leaving my foot there, resting against her leg, the material of her pyjama shorts warm against the sole of my foot. She narrows her eyes at me.

"Hey, that was my question!" she retorts. I scoff at her, pushing my toes into her thigh again gently. Which is weirdly touchy for me, considering I am the least touchy person ever, even with people I am dating.

"You don't have copyright over questions. Especially ones as vague as that. Now answer," I insist smugly. She lets out a sigh for dramatic effect.

"You are stubborn, I will tell you that," she replies, in that same kind of tone that I use when I call her a nerd, "Hmm, well I will admit that I went through a, slightly morbid phase when I was a teenager. Not the wearing black and listening to metal kind, but I went through this phase where I uhm.. rather than being a Doctor, I considered maybe forsenic science, kind of stuff?" she answers cryptically, and then at my steady question gaze she smiles wryly and continues, "Okay, I became really obsessed with these old crime novels, and I wanted to be like a medical examiner, and I was, as always, a total nerd, so I got really into the science of it. I read all these books on determining cause of death and ... but my parents really weren't keen. Which, I mean, I get, because, I guess it is kind of a waste, you know. I will never forget when my dad said to me, 'what do you really want? To be explaining why somebody died, or to be helping make sure that someone lives?' And after that, I decided I really wanted to go into survey. You know, be on the front line, and all that. My father always wanted to be a surgeon, but, life happened, and  _I_  happened, and he ended up just becoming a doctor and a scientist, which is great, but, ... oh god, I am rambling so badly right now. I think I just told you my lives story. Should I just shut up?" She cringes, deep creases forming in her forehead as she fidgets with her hair shyly.

"No, I like it how we tell each other stuff," I blurt out quickly, wanting to reassure her after she has literally just spilt out what seem to be some rather personal confessions. She gives me an odd, cryptic smile, and runs the edge of her tongue over her bottom lip, her eyes watching me carefully. I feel my stomach swirl uncomfortably and I glance down at my coffee cup. I think I have had one too many tonight. I feel a touch against my foot, and look up to find Holly is resting her hand over it absentmindedly as she stares at her computer screen, reading over a sentence again carefully. I think this is her way of gently letting my touchy feely moment go unacknowledged, which I appreciate greatly. I look up across the kitchen, towards the opening into the living room, where through the front windows and the pane above the door the darkness is softening slowly and fading out. I unwittingly let a loud yawn escape my mouth, my eyes watering slightly, and when I open them again Holly is looking across at me in concern.

"I'm not going to bed," I tell her firmly. She shakes her head at me and smiles, the soft lighting of the late morning/early night highlighting the dark bags beneath her eyes. I know for a fact that she only had a few hours sleep the night before as well. This girl has had me worried all week.

"I know better than to ask you that. Despite the fact that I know you have class this morning, in like, _four hours._ Could we move to the couch though?" she asks, "My back is really starting to ache." I narrow my eyes at her skeptically, commenting that so does she, but in  _three_ , but I have to admit, these dining chairs were not meant to be sat on for these lengths of hours. Even mine is starting to hurt. We leave the dining table littered with snacks and empty packets and coffee mugs, something I know that she would never usually do, and we relocate to the living room. Holly leans back comfortably onto the couch, laptop resting on her legs, and turns to look at me as I sit down next to her, and then promptly settle into a comfortable position semi curled up on the lounge. She smiles down at me smugly and I glare back.

"I'm not sleeping," I insist.

"No no, of course not," she agrees, and then puts her laptop down for a moment and stands up, walking over to the corner of the room, and pulling a blanket out of the cupboard beneath the bookcase, "It's cold," she explains logically in reply to the look that I give her, before laying it gently over me. I have to admit that it is incredibly warm. And cosy. And comfortable. I hear her yawn tiredly beside me, feel her shift slightly on the lounge to get comfortable, and I realise that I have closed my eyes. Just for a moment. I hear the gentle, rhythmic clicking of her fingers across her keyboard, and she hums gently under her breath, no doubt thinking that I am already asleep. It sounds familiar, but I cannot place it. It sounds old school and jazz-esk. I try to think, what are the lyrics? I feel her hand touch the soft under arch of my foot where it sticks out from under the blanket, into the cold air, her thumb drawing soft patterns against my skin, figger eights looping around and around and around.

...

"Gail!" The sound of my name is bellowed from somewhere close by. I sit bolt upright, and feel the material of the blanket fall down off of my shoulder into a heap of folds over my lap. I blink into the bright light streaming into the living room, and look around, bewildered.

"Gail!" it comes again, and I look around, confused, to find Dov standing at the foot of the lounge, wet hair dripping water onto the towel sitting over his shoulders. How does he managed to make everything he does so girly? I am almost amused, except that I am far too tired to be right now. I must be blinking at him like a deer in headlights because he laughs, and throws said damp towel at me, hitting me squarely in the face.

"We're leaving for class in fifteen minutes, if you aren't in the car, you aren't coming," he tells me as I growl and push the item off of myself in disgust. When his words set in, I double take, and then blink and glance up at the clock on the wall in front of me. It's almost eight thirty. Holly must be in class already. And I will be too in half an hour, if I ever get ready in time. I bolt up off of the couch and upstairs, straight into the bathroom, stripping off my clothes quickly and jumping under the still cold water to have the fastest shower I think I have ever had in my life. By the time I jump back out, towel off, and pull on the first clothes that I can find that are clean out of the laundry, it is already almost time, and I grab my notebook and my phone and dash out of the door, with my shoes half on, to find Dov already in the car with the music blasting. I slide into the passenger seat and close the door behind me, out of breath, and finally lean down to properly tie up my laces.

"Nice shirt," comments Dov, smirking as he pulls out of the driveway and down the street. I look downwards at the tshirt I have one to make out the upside down, back to front words across my chest in white lettering against a striking blue material.  _Oh_ , I cringe, and let my head fall back against the car seat, my damp hair no doubt leaving a nice imprint on Dov's seat covers.  _Holly is going to absolutely love this_ , I think wryly, clipping in my seatbelt, even though the college is so close that we are already a third of the way there. Dov is shaking his head at me, and he turns down the volume of the music a little - much to my joy, who can listen to upbeat pop that loudly this early in the morning?

"What on earth did you to get up to last night?" he asks me, bemused, and I feel myself blush slightly before I quickly roll my eyes at him.

"We had a study emergency," I tell him, "Well, Holly did, anyway."

"So I can see," he replies, shaking his head, "The kitchen was a mess. You're doing of course, I presume."

"Oh, it was a joint effort, I can assure you," I tell him, and watch his smile falter slightly, knowing that he is going to be just a little bit jealous.

"What time did you go to sleep?" he asks me, and for a second I think he is concerned, and maybe he is, just a little, but I am certain there is more to it than that. He glances across at me for a second as we stop at the lights, taking in my rather disheveled appearance this morning, my wet hair and the bags under my eyes and clothes that aren't even mine that I grabbed and put on without a glance.

"Pretty late," I mutter casually, and then frown and add, "Like, five, isn, in the morning. But not as late as Holly, I don't think she even slept at all." He turns his gaze quickly back to the road as the lights change, his expression unreadable for probably the first time ever since we first became friends. I don't remember ever seeing his face and not knowing what he was thinking, whether it be when we first started hanging out and he was trying to subtly check me out, or when he was mad and trying to hide it, I could always tell, he was like an open book.

"So, wait, you stayed up almost all night to help Holly study?" he asks me. Why does it sounded weirder when you put it like that. I give a small nod as I stare out the window in the opposite direction.

"Huh, maybe the ice queen has a heart after all," he jabs lightly as he turns into the parking lot down the street from the college. I frown. And not just because of the annoying nickname which he gave me when we first met, although it irks me more than I let on, but because what he said is kind if true. It seems out of character for me. Although I reason that, isn't the entire college experience about change and development and all that over crap my parents used to tell me. Maybe this is just my personal development finally kicking in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ps. sorry for my poor, rushed editing :P


	7. Halloween

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pumpkin carving and haunted houses and Doctor Who costumes abound <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This is long overdue. I have been straggly so badly to write this because my brain is like, but it's christmas, why are we writing about Halloween? (which is again my own fault for getting so behind.)
> 
> fingers crossed I get some of the christmas portion out my christmas ;) haha
> 
> Really hope that you enjoy it and thank you so much to all the wonderful people who read, like, comments and review this story, it means so much, and I am wishing you all a very merry holiday season!

...

I am lying on the couch in the living room, with my sock clad feet resting up on the back. Holly is upstairs and Dov is downstairs, both getting into their Halloween costumes. They have both been secretive for a whole week and finally today are revealing their outfits for a test run before tomorrow night. I think, and have voiced very loudly, that it is super gay that Dov is doing this. What boy does a test run of his outfit? But he hunted it down on ebay and had it shipped from like the UK or something, I think he is pretty chuffed about it.

I hear heavy footsteps upstairs.

"Ready?" Holly calls out from the top of the stairs. I can see her feet on the landing, her bare toes wiggling under the hem of her pants. This should be interesting.

"Ready!" Dov finally yells back, sounding out of breath, from the level below. I am watching Holly as she descends, my smirk widening as I realise she is wearing a neat brown suit. As she reaches the bottom I can see it is fitted, with a matching brown waist coat under the blazer, and a brown bow tie. Her hair is out, soft and flowing around her shoulders, a darker shade of brown than any piece of her suit. And in her hand is that silver object thingy which I forget the name of. She did dress up as Doctor Who after all. I am grinning at her like a bit of an idiot, suddenly sitting further up, my chin resting on the back of the lounge.

" _Nice_ ," I say, and then want to face palm at how stupid I feel. But I mean, wow. Holly in a suit is.. well... hot, to be honest. This thought track is quickly thrown off course when I see Holly's expression turn from smug into an unimpressed frown. My gaze finally glances back to where Dov is standing at the top of the other stairs in a dark grey suit and a long brown trench coat. They both look at each other, and cross their arms.

"Oh my god," Holly proclaims, "Take it off. You cant wear that." It takes my brain a moment to catch on, being not as nerdy as these two dweebs, and then I realise that they are both dressed as Doctor Who. Dov is shaking his head adamantly, which is surprising given how much he likes Holly and would do pretty much anything she asked.

"No way!" he replies, "It's not like we're dressed as the  _same_  Doctor, we can just say we're doing matching costumes." That sounds creepily coupley, and I am now equally unimpressed. I shake my head at him.

"Nup, she's right, and she looks way hotter so you have to change. Such are the unwritten rules of Halloween costuming." They both cock an eyebrow at me in surprise, and I shrug and let myself slump back down onto the couch out of view. However this seems to have worked it's magic, and very quickly Dov is (reluctantly) agreeing, and walking heavily back downstairs to change and try and find a new costume. I am staring at the ceiling when Holly's head pops over the back of the couch and looks down at me, grinning. Her long fair falls down to graze my nose just slightly and I scrunch it up.

"That tickles," I announce, as I squirm out of her hair's reach, and I watch her smile soften in amusement at me. That look on her face says 'you are adorable', which would usually drive me crazy were it any other person. I am not fond of looking  _cute_  and never have been, even when I was three years old and had delicate blonde curls and bright blue eyes, and every time my mother brought me to the station all the cops would pinch my cheeks. When I was five I karate kicked one to the shins and this quickly stopped.

"Thanks for backing me up," Holly tells me. I give a noncommittal shrug as though it was no big deal, and make a show of appraising her again.

"It is a very  _cool_  outfit," I make a point of saying cool really firmly, as though I am trying to trick her into forgetting that I previously called her hot, but I don't think it has worked, "You know, for a nerd." I add, smirking broadly. Holly laughs - that loud, open mouthed, dorky laugh that she does, that unintentionally makes me smile every time.

"Oh, and what is your costume then, miss secretive?" she asks me. She has been bugging me all week about what I am going to wear, and throwing out suggestions, and I have been smirking silently and refusing to say a word. Mostly because, I really don't want her to feel sorry for me. But, I don't know, we kind of tell each other stuff, and seeing as I haven't told anyone else, I figure why not at least Holly.

"Oh, I don't have one," I reply. I watch her smile drop a little, brow furrowing quizzically. She leans further forward and sweeps her hair back over one shoulder so that it doesn't fall in my face. I watch the way her cheeks are turning light pink as the heat from the radiator slowly fills the room and she gets warmer in the thick material of her three piece suit and button up shirt.

"Are you just going out in jeans and a t-shirt?" she asks. I give a muted shake of my head where it lies against the arm rest.

"I'm not going out."

"What? Why not? I assumed you were going with Dov to that party with your college friends." It is weird that I kind of like the concerned tone to her voice? I shake my head again gently.

"You mean  _his_  friends, but no. I usually go to this stupid Halloween do that my parents throw at home, but I am successfully lying my ass off and saying that I am going out with a bunch of cops-to-be from college, which I am not doing because I let Dov think I am going to my parents thing, and instead I am going to be marathoning scary movies and stuffing my face on candy, in between answering the door to trick or treaters, and refusing to give them any." The evening light is dimming and the fluorescents from the light hanging over head glows in her pensive brown eyes.

"Well, you know, if that movie marathon comes to seem a little boring, I  _am_  stuck going to the Medicine Faculty's annual Haunted House, and I could really use a date," she suggests, standing back up and eyeing me cautiously. I blink, and then she gives a smile and wiggles out of her blazer, slinging the piece of clothing over one arm.

"That radiator obviously works well," she says, moving her hair away from the flushed side of her neck, soft pink creeping up her skin from underneath her collar, "I going to go get out of these clothes, but um, the offer still stands. You know, if you change your mind," she shrugs in what is  _my_  classic Gail-esk show of noncommittal casualness, while taking a step back towards the bottom of the stairs. I don't think I even got a chance to answer the first time she asked me, but I don't want to seem eager now. I smile back at her.

"I'll keep that in mind."

...

I stumble out of bed on Halloween morning to the sound of eerie howls and screams echoing up from the living room. I run my tongue over the front of my teeth, cringe, and and head straight to the bathroom to brush them. When I am showered and dressed and clean of teeth I enter the living room in search of hot coffee and I find Dov fiddling with the stereo.

"Why do we have Halloween music?" I ask him, noting as well the fake (I hope) spider webs that have been draped over the front door and the banister of the stairs. He looks up at me and smiles.

"Holly seems to suddenly be very adamant on creating a Halloween-y atmosphere," he tells me, standing up and running a hand through his hair, "She's in the kitchen, carving a pumpkin, if you want to help?" He watches my face as I digest the information.

"Oh. Well, I guess, yea, I could help," I try to seem vague and unenthusiastic, tiring my hair up into a loose bun as I talk, but I can't help peering through into the kitchen and smiling when I see her sitting indian style on the floor, with a small but very sharp object in one hand, sizing up the large vegetable before her. When I glance back at Dov he has this annoying smirk on his face, before he walks around past me and out the front door. That same 'i know a secret', mysterious, unreadable look he gave me in the car. Holly doesn't look up until I am standing directly in front of her, by which point she is about halfway through carving out a very neat circle in the bottom of the pumpkin. She pauses, and withdraws her hand from the knifes handle, leaving it sticking out of the pumpkin at an acute angle.

"Morning," she say cheerfully, adjusting her glasses as she looks up at me, "Have you been sent by Dov to lend me a hand? He seems adamant I won't be able to do this alone, but it's only a pumpkin for god's sake." I rather enjoy when she get's irritated by Dov. I shake my head dramatically.

"That boy needs to leave well enough alone. As if  _he_  could carve a pumpkin. His muscles are smaller than mine," I tell her, flexing my arm to illustrate my point, and then blushing slightly when I realise this looks a bit show off-y, but she looks interested, and then impressed, nodding her head.

"For someone who hates being active, you appear to have good arm strength," she tells me in her serious stating facts voice, the one she uses when she peers over the rims of her glasses all nerdy and knowledgeable looking and rattles off something smart sounding. I smile, shaking my head, and take a seat next to her, regarding the array of tools she has laid out on the cloth she has placed down on the floor.

"Ice cream scoop?" I ask dubiously, and she smirks.

"Have you ever carved a pumpkin?" I shake my head sheepishly. Truthfully, I don't think I ever have. One year I bought a pumpkin and drew a face on it with black marker. My mother wouldn't let me put it out the front of the house though, she'd ordered specially carved pumpkins with 'witty' cop related things cut into them. My little baby pumpkin just sat in my room until he started to go a little funny and I had to throw him out. Holly is giving me that smile again.

"It's for removing the seeds," she tells me, as she continues cutting out the circle in the bottom, before removing the thick piece of skin, and placing it to the side, "Although feel free to use your hands. First timers honour," she tells me, holding out the pumpkin, and indicating for me to reach inside. I hesitate, uncertain, and a little untrusting, if it were Dov telling me to shove my hand inside of a vegetable I would definitely not be doing it. But it's Holly, so I do. I shove my hand in through the hole, and soon find myself wrist deep in slimy, gooey pumpkin guts. I try to grasp a hold of some as I pull my hand back out, and when I do I find a large pile of it, seeds and stringy bits and orange mush. I am kind of looking at it in horror and disgust when Dov walks up to the threshold between the living room and the kitchen, and he sees my face, and starts laughing. It's like this is the funniest thing he has ever seen. I can see Holly giggling out of the corner of my eye, and I glare up at Dov, and then without really thinking about it, I fling the goop in my hand up towards him. It hits him square in the face, mostly closer to his chin, with one large goop of orange stuck just above his eyebrow, and a wayward seed having been flung into his mop of brown hair. Now, the look on  _his_  face is truly priceless. I laugh so hard that my eyes actually tear up a bit, and I have to lean my head on Holly's shoulder, Holly who is laughing too, wiping the corner of her eye from under her glasses, and trying to contain it as she smiles at Dov sheepishly. When he walks away towards the sink I look up at Holly from my position, still resting my head against her bony and yet comfortable shoulder, and grin.

"So about this haunted house you are going to tonight," I pause and drag my top teeth over my bottom lip slowly, "You still need that plus one?" She looks down at me, her glasses' dark plastic frame slipping along the bridge of her nose and coming to a stop just before the tip, balancing near the end. I feel like they are a sigh away from falling off of her face and landing on mine.

"Well, you'll need a costume," she tells me, in an even tone, as though not particularly fussed whether I come or not, but I can see her eyes, right up close, and the twitch of a smile curling the the corner of her chapped pink lips, centre metres away from my forehead, breathing out warmth onto my skin, and I know this is not the case. I sit back up straight again, and lean in to grab out another handful of pumpkin guts.

"Well you might wanna sort that out, you know, unless you wanna go solo," I tell her, looking back up to smirk at her, my eyebrows raised. She shakes her head at me and pushes her glasses back into place.

"I'll see what I can do. I know a guy, he may be able to hook you up."

"You know a guy?" I mimic sarcastically, giggling in amusement at her use of language, as though this is a black-market deal going down, as though she is getting me an untraceable cell phone not a Halloween costume. Could she be any cuter? She ignores my teasing tone and nods her head quite seriously.

"I'm very cool like that."

...

It is five o'clock and Holly has been gone for an hour now, and I am waiting in the living room, lying on the mat in the middle of the floor, with the Halloween music blasting, and a large bowl of candy beside me that was supposed to be for the kids. There are already ten empty wrappers sitting on my stomach, and chocolate smudges around the sides of my mouth. She left to go collect this mystery costume for me and assured she would be back soon. I hardly call an hour soon. At this point, I don't really much mind what this costume is. It could be a sheet with cut out eyes, and I would probably wear it.

Dov left twenty minutes ago to attend his stupid Halloween party at Chris' place. Heaps of people from our class will be there, Dov said Nick was asking if I was going to come. Ugh. I couldn't think of anything worse. A bunch of wannabe cops getting wasted, in a crowd of people who all somehow thing that Dov is cool, and without Holly there. Although I have to admit that girl Tracie is kind of okay, I don't mind sitting next to her in class, or lending her my notes when she has to miss a day cos her kid is sick. Although I was a little put off at first when she showed me like five photo on her phone of the baby, cooing over how cute he was. The exact social situation I suck at, "he has your nose," I has said, looking bored, "big nostrils, you know." Tracie had given a kind of muted smile and put her phone away. No more baby photo sessions after that.

The door bursts open, with enough force to swing around and bump against the wall, and Holly bustles through looking flustered, from what I can see lying on the floor looking back, it's hard to tell from upside down. I sit up and turn around, licking away the chocolate around my mouth with my tongue, and the blood rushes to my head from the speed in which I have done so, and makes it spin for a second. I blink, and and it goes away, and I see Holly shaking off her thick coat and hanging it by the door on the little wooden stand next to the shoe rack. She turns and spots me and gives a kind of nervous smile, one of her hands touching the bag hanging from her wrists. I am assuming this contains my costume.

"Okay, go put this on, and I'll run up and change, and then we can leave," she tells me, sounding out of breath as she tosses me the bag, pauses, bites her lip, and then jogs up the stairs. She is acting  _weird,_ but then again, Holly is kind of always weird, in a cool and endearing way. I frown and get up, walking around the couch to follow after her up the stair case to the next level. I close my bedroom door behind me and kick off my shoes into a corner, walking over to the bed and emptying out the contents of the bag onto my bedspread. I frown, and then raise one eyebrow, as I look at it. It's a light blue dress, shimmery and sparkly, with light semi see-through material for the arms, and snowflakes patterning on a light overlayer over the back portion. At first I am just really confused. Holly has gotten me a dress. A pretty dress. For Halloween? What am I supposed to be? A princess? Without a crown though. A snow princess without a crown. But then after a second it clicks, and I frown and pull out my phone, and google 'frozen' to make sure. Oh my god, she got me an Elsa dress.

...

I run my hands down the front of the material, and turn a little, watching my reflection in the small mirror on my dresser, critically appraising my handiwork with regard to my hair, the thick, loose plait hanging over one shoulder. I hear a knock on my door and look up, suddenly self conscious.

"You ready?" Holly calls through.

"No!" I yell back nervously. I can almost  _hear_  her roll her eyes, and the door starts to creak open.

"No, don't come in," I try to insist, but she does come in anyway, peaking around the door in her still totally adorable and yet kind of hot suit. Her eyes scan around the room and spot me in the corner and then she stops, and kind of stares at me. Oh god, it's worse than I thought.

"Is the hair bad? I googled it on my phone and I tried to do something similar? Oh god, I look horrible. I'm taking it off," I begin saying, reaching around for the zip, but she walks over to me, grinning, and places her hand on mine, stopping it dead in it's tracks, just sitting against my waist.

"You look...  _awesome."_ I feel like for a second she was maybe going to say something else. Her broad, smug grin softens into a warm smile as she looks me up and down closer up, running her fingers over the trim at the top, her finger tip just grazing my collar bone. My stomach flips nervously. I hate parties, actually most large social events, and I always tend to get anxious before attending one. She takes a step back, and gives a small approving nod.

"Okay, let's go."

...

The haunted house is within walking distance, it's a building on campus that is actually quite close to our house as it turns out. However it is a bit too cold to go out wearing only my Elsa dress, so Holly has me all wrapped up in one of her thick, sensible coats. I think it's made out of tweed, or something just as dorky and practical. In terms of footwear however, well, this dress would have looked ridiculous with runners, so I am walking the cold Autumn streets in my white slip-on shoes (I think this is the only time I have ever worn them, my mother bought them for me months ago, but they weren't really my style). We reach the lights at the crossing leading over to the small parcel of land on which the Connaught Building on Spadina Crescent is located. As the sun is almost starting to set, falling behind the large buildings of the campus, it looks eerie where it sits, the only building on the circle of land surrounded by road. Thick ivy grows up the front of the old, stone building, and I kind of stare up at it for a moment before I feel Holly's arm tugging at my sleeve for me to walk, and I let her lead me over the road, onto the footpath and up through the gate.

"It was built in like 1875," she tells me as we approach, continuing her little history lesson, "It has been home to many things, including a hospital, in fact Amelia Earhart was a nurse there. Students always say that it is haunted, because two people have died here in the last fourteen years, hence, the perfect place for the haunted house." I pause as we approach the steps to the front door, swallowing hard as I eye the eerie looking tower pertruding up from the top of the building. Holly bounds straight up the stone steps and glances back at me as she begins to push open the wooden door, smiling, amused.

"Come on, scardy cat," she teases, holding her hand out toward me somewhat mimicking the stance of the Doctor, inviting Rose onboard the tardis, and as I accept it and let her pull me inside she squeezes it gently and adds, "Don't worry, I won't let anything happen to you."

...

We get put on candy counter duty, money raising for the end of year medical ball by selling ghost cupcakes and pumpkin shaped chocolates and some kind of punch. After an hour of serving university students and listening to Holly ramble adorably, a girl walks up who seems to know her.

"Rad costume, Hols," this girl says, grinning and leaning against the other side of the candy bar, "You goin' in later?" she asks, indicating to the entrance to the 'haunted house' section, where every so often I hear a scream shortly followed by laughter echo out from behind the semi closed doors. Holly smiles, tucking her hair behind her ear.

"Uhh, I dunno, maybe. Gail here, my roommate, is a bit of a chicken. I don't reckon I'll be able to convince her," she says. I realise she is teasing me, further emphasised by the smug look she gives me, her cheeks dimpling as she does so, but this girl probably doesn't. Her friend laughs, giving a friendly nod of acknowledgement in my direction.

"Well let me know if you need an escort then. I hear it's pretty scary this year," she replies, before pushing away from the bench and walking over to a group of girls in the corner. When Holly leans back against the wall again I fix her with a pointed look, eye brows raised. She stares back expression blank until I roll my eyes.

"Who was that?" I prompt her.

"Oh, just a girl from class," she answers with a shrug, pushing her glasses back up her nose and shuffling closer to me. The building is cold and drafty, just to add to the creepiness, and she can tell I am getting chilly in my dress so she sidles up to me until our arms are touching all down the length of them to the backs of our hands as we lean against the wall and wait for another customer.

"Oh wow, are you that oblivious nerd?" I ask, smirking now from ear to ear, "First Dov, and now this, you really don't notice, do you?" I ask, highly amused. She continues to look extremely confused.

"What do you mean?"

"She was  _totally_  hitting on you, you know that, right?" I answer her, laughing. The look on her face at this is too cute for words. The pink hits her cheeks along the tops of her cheek bones and spreads rapidly, darkening as the realisation sets in.

"No..." she tries meekly, momentarily, to say that I am wrong, but I give her an incredulous look and the denial fades from her tongue just as quickly as it came. She bites the inside of her cheek quietly for a moment, one hand coming up to fiddle with her bow tie as she thinks this over.

"Oh," she breathes out heavily. Her face is kind of unreadable and an insatiable intrigue is eating away at me, I can't help but ask her.

"Are you... you know... interested?" I ask as subtly as I possibly could. I hope my expression doesn't give away that, for some unknown reason, I am really, truly, curious to know the answer to this. Not that there is  _anything_ wrong with being gay. I wouldn't mind at all if Holly was, it really isn't a big deal at all. I just kind of want to know. I really want to know. Holly blushes, and looks back up, those soft brown eyes wide as they stare back at me.

"No, I mean, well no. Just not. I mean I'm not interested in  _her_ ," she says, emphasising the last word. What does that mean though? Is she emphasising 'her' as in to say not her because she is a female, meaning that she isn't gay? Or to indicate it is just this particular girl she doesn't like in that way? I am now probably even more confused, but I give a small nod, and a warm smile. The warmest smile I can muster, just incase that was her telling me that she was gay, I don't want to seem all weird now, like I'm freaked out, just in case. Holly watches me for a moment and then giggles, and looks away, stepping forward to pour herself a glass of punch.

"So, how about tackling the haunted house with me?" she asks after she takes a sip. I grin as bravely as I can, not wanting to admit that I am just the slightest bit nervous.

"Yes, I do, because I am definitely  _not_  a chicken," I tell her firmly.

...

I have always prided myself on being pretty brave. I never wanted to hold my parents hand on the first day of school (one of the only times I have seen my mother look proud of me) and I never needed my brother to defend me (though he tried a few times). But here I am standing in what I  _know_  is just a dressed up hallway in a boring old building with the lights turned out. And I am just a little bit nervous. Nervous enough that creeping through the passage and ducking under the thick fake spider webs and around the gurney covered in fake blood, an orange light flickering somewhere further down to guide our way, and a cackling soundtrack playing over the speaker system, I reach out and find Holly's hand in the dark.

I am not sure what I would rather admit, that I am just a tiny bit scared, or that I kind of just want to hold her hand.

Scared. Let's go with scared.

I just make out her head turn in my direction for a moment, her expression lost in the dark, and then I feel her fingers interweave with mine, and she squeezes my hand gently, her thumb rubbing the back, and she uses our now linked hands to pull me towards her so that she can shout into my ear.

"You scared?" she asks me, voice raised to be heard over the sound of a chainsaw. I shake my head at her, smirking, and step around the next corner, when suddenly I feel something grab my free arm, and I let go of her hand, only in order to use it to slam said thing which has just grabbed me into a wall, pinning them carefully in place. It turns out to be some poor student, dressed up as a mummy, who's face no looks white as a ghost. Oops. I guess it turns out I am more than prepared for a mummy attack. I gently let them go, and shout back, "sorry." I find my way back to Holly's waiting hand, reached out towards me in the dark, and I take it again, and let her pull me in cooer to her.

"Looks like you can handle yourself," she yells at me, and brushes back a loose bit of hair that has worked it's way out of my braid. I laugh, but I think the sound gets lost in the noise, and I give her hand a sharp squeeze. The next time someone jumps out to scare us, I refrain from using my self defence skills. Although I do pull Holly a little closer to myself protectively. When we exit at the end I quickly loosen my grip and let her hand slip out of mine as we walk back out into the main room. Holly is grinning. Who knew the girl was into scary things, this is definitely my new scary movie watching buddy (Dov always makes excuses, he needs to do laundry that day or suddenly remembers a doctors appointment across town, but I know the truth is he just can't watch a horror film without screaming like a girl). Holly's friends from class are minding the candy bar for us, and we walk back over to relieve them of the duty. They seem... okay. I am not much of a people person I guess, and it tends to make me some time to warm up to people, but some of them seem a little snobby and annoying. Although I did think that Holly could be like that too when we first met. They greet her and ask how it was and one of her friends gives me a smile so I smile back, I hope not too sarcastically. Her friends are teasing her about the end of year Medical Faculty Ball, which she insists she isn't going to, "one school spirit activity a year is enough for me."

"You should take what's her face girl," I chime in, nudging her, and she shoots me a look, shaking her head and laughing. But all her friends pounce on this.

"What girl?"

"Who?"

"Is there a girl? Finally?"

"So the nerd finally comes out of her books, well done Holly!"

Holly turns five different shades of red and quickly shakes her head at them.

"Gail is just teasing me, cos Emma came up to the candy counter before, and Gail seemed to think that she was hitting on me," she tells them, shooting me another, now more pointed glare. I lean back against the candy counter and grin.

"Oh, she most definitely  _was_ ," I tell them. But the reason I am so chuffed right now is not because I love watching Holly get flustered, and embarrassed, or that I love teasing her, though those things I do very much enjoy. It is because it seems I have gotten my answer from her friends reactions. Well done Dov, you picked the unattainable, gorgeous, smart, nerdy, cute,  _gay_  girl who is your housemate to get a crush on. That is so him.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: After seven entire months of being unable to work, I have finally managed to continue writing this. Thank you so much to all the incredibly sweet people who have message me over the last seven months telling me how much they love this story and asking me to continue, you guys are the reason I have been able to write this again.
> 
> I just hope you aren't too disappointed haha

…

"Drinks!" one of Holly's friends announces as they pack the last of the leftover halloween treats into a mini fridge in one of the labs down the back of the building. I am making a mental note to never accept food from any of her friends based on these iffy hygiene standards - is that some kind of bacteria sample two shelves up? -when I feel Holly's hip bump against mine playfully.

"Drinks?" She repeats the question softly, just to me, smiling wryly like she knows I'll say no. I glance down at my outfit, then back up at her.

"Dressed as Elsa?" I ask unenthusiastically, "you should be happy you got me out of the house in this outfit." She lets out a laugh, her hip still pressed gently into mine, her body close enough that I can smell the scent of her suit, dusty and old, and the subtle undertone of her lavender shampoo. I know it's her shampoo because we share a bathroom, not because I have been creepily sniffing her hair. Although it does always smell good. Her lips are fighting a smile as she replies.

"It's Halloween," she reminds me, and when I go to protest again I remember that I have never seen Holly drink before, and the thought alone is enough to convince me. She leans away from me and her hand finds the hem of my lacy sleeve and tugs gently, grinning as she sees my resolve waver. I sigh and nod my head.

"You've got me there smarty pants."

And that's how we find ourselves at a crowded pub on campus, surrounded by very drunk students in some very revealing halloween costumes, clinging to the bar amongst a sea of bodies as the bartender pours out a round of his "wake the dead" shots. The noise is deafening, and I am staying as close to Holly as possible so as not to get separated.

When the bartender finishes pouring I reach forward and take one of the damp glasses, and hold it up.

"Happy halloween!" One of Holly's friends yells, and they all down their drinks at once, so I follow suit. It burns all the way down the length of my throat as I slam the glass back on the counter top. I glance sidelong and catch Holly making a face, scrunching her nose and spluttering as her she swallows it down. When she shakes her head and opens her eyes again she finds me grinning at her smugly.

"Not much of a drinker?" I ask her, baiting, and am satisfied when she frowns at me from behind her glasses and re-adjusts her bowtie.

"I do occasionally enjoy a drink," she replies somewhat stiffly, when one of her friends throws an arm around her shoulder, grinning, and leans towards me.

"In all of med school so far she has come out drinking with us twice, including tonight," she (Zoe I think?) proclaims. I raise my eyebrows, and watch crimson dust Holly's cheekbones from a mixture of embarrassment, alcohol hitting her bloodstream and the heat of the packed bar. I bite my bottom lip absentmindedly as I observe the flush at the base of her neck just peering over the top of her collar.

"I've been busy, with Uni work," she protests, readjusting her glasses, "But tonight I am letting loose."

This announcement raises a cheer from her friends, and a dubious expression from me. She flicks a wayward piece of hair back over her shoulder and leans her forearms against the wooden bartop.

"Two more of whatever that was!"

…

"I can't believe you drunk so much. What have you told me? All those stories about the liver you dissected? Do you remember my hangover from the beginning of semester?" Holly's arm is slung around my shoulders as we take the steps up to the house together, her fingers bunched in my dress sleeve for grip. When we reach the top step she slumps heavily into me, and I can feel the length of her body pressed against my side through the thick material of her outfit. I swallow and pause, and we are both staring at the front door.

"Keys?" I prompt. She giggles into my shoulder, her lips grazing my skin through the thin lace.

"Oh, right, in my pockets," she mumbles, feeling the front of her trousers, "somewhere…" her hands are moving slowly, and I reach my hand to the top of her trousers, just beneath the bottom of her blazer. My fingers find the waistband of her pants and feel their way down to the pocket opening to slip inside. I feel her breath heavy against my neck while I lean down, fingertips finding cold metal and gripping the keys to pull them out.

"Thanks," she whispers, taking them from my hand, and moving out of my touch to lean against the door. She finds the key hole but can't seem to get the key inside, and finally lets out a humph, glancing back at me.

"Gail," her voice is the closest to whiny that I have ever heard it, and I find myself grinning through the still buzzing stupor of tipsiness that hangs over me. I take the keys back and open the door, leading her inside. We make our way up the two flights of stairs in darkness, and I lead her directly over to the bed, sitting her down and switching on the lamp. When I turn back she has already removed her jacket and is fumbling with her bow tie, wiggling it loose. Messy dark brown hair is falling around her shoulders, how is it always so soft looking?

"Why did you let me drink?" she asks. I move closer so that my knees just touch hers where her legs bend over the edge of the bed.

"Could I have possibly stopped you?" She mulls this over and then shakes her head.

"Probably not," she concedes, and gives me a toothy grin, leaning back on the heels of her hands.

"Drunk Holly is very amusing," I tell her, reaching down and gently undoing the bow tie. I pause as I watch her face, expression suddenly mellowed and curious, her eyes wide. The soft light of the lamp reflects my image back at me in her eyes.

"What does it mean when someone's pupils are dilated?" I ask her. She blinks and then frowns, that crease between her brow forming over the frames of her glasses. She sits up straight and undoes the top two buttons of her white shirt, so that her collarbone just peeks through.

"Many things. Mydriasis could be caused by dark conditions, drugs, alcohol intoxication. Studies have shown that pupil dilation can be caused by thinking hard or sexual arousal-" she pauses when she sees me smirking and bites her bottom lip, teeth kneading the pink skin nervously, "what?"

"How can you still say words like, midrasisis-whatever, when you're drunk?" I muse aloud. She gets that look in her eyes, the one she gets whenever she talks about science, a little bit cocky. How does someone gain confidence from being nerdy? She grins.

"Mydriasis," she corrects, and then scoffs at me, "give me something a little harder." Her eyes are dark, watching me intensely. The alcohol is still flooding my veins, making my head spinning a little, and I move back, losing all body contact, and look around the room. I walk over and take a flashcard from a pile on her desk. They appear to be colour coded my subject, and her endearing nerdiness makes my grin wider, cheeks aching just a little. I like my lips and squint at her loopy handwriting, elegant and yet almost unreadable.

"Name the urine producing structures... Ew," I crinkle my nose in disgust, and Holly laughs.

"Glomerulus and nephron," her words are slower than usual but her tongue moved around the syllables without stuttering, and she grins proudly, "Speaking of urine, I need water. A lot of water." I shake my head and drop the flashcard back onto the pile.

"Coming right up."

I dash down stairs quickly, my bare feet skidding on the cold floorboards, and fill the largest glasses I can find in the kitchen. By the time I am carefully carrying them up the last steps into Holly's room I find her sitting at the head of her bed in an oversized t-shirt, the worn material falling in folds around the tops of her bare thighs, legs crossed indian style. The pale skin just before they disappear into shadows beneath the fabric is crawling with goosebumps, and the thought sends a small shiver down my spine. I swallow and pad across her carpet, offering one out to her. She accepts and smiles up at me with heavy eyes.

"Bed time for you I think."

She frowns, but pulls back the covers and slips her feet under, knees drawn to her chest as she drinks. I sip my water slowly, watching as she drains half the glass and then wipes her top lip with the back of her hand, the sheen of water still lingering, catching the lamp light. I'm holding my cup awkwardly in my hands, inching back a little, unsure if I should leave. Holly catches my eyes and leans forward, pulling open the draw of her bedside table. She pulls out a t-shirt and shorts and throws them at me, my reflexes kicking in before my brain and snatching them just before they hit my face. I narrow my eyes at her playfully. I unfold them, there is a large picture of Garfield on the front of the t-shirt. Holly is watching me quietly.

"Erm, close your eyes perv," I tell her as I go to undo the back of my dress, pushing loose strands of hair away from the zipper with one hand. Holly blinks and gives a small smirk as she closes her eyes and shrugs.

"Sorry, alcohol brain," she apologises, not very apologetically, "makes all my reactions slower."

"Sure that was the reason." I pull the dress over my head, cold night air blowing over my bare legs and stomach, and carefully place it over the back of her desk chair where her suit has been haphazardly thrown. I pause, and glance back towards her, the alcohol in my system making my stomach drop a little as I stand in the middle of Holly's room in nothing but my underwear, clutching the borrowed pajamas to my chest. Holly's eyes are tightly shut behind her glasses, her bottom lip caught between her teeth.

When I'm dressed I give a small cough, and she cautiously squints at me through one eye before opening the other and indicating towards the foot of her bed. I take a seat, sinking into the mattress and leaning back against the wall.

"Tell me something," she says softly, somewhat sleepily. I lean my head back against the firm plaster and look at her.

"Like, what do you wanna know?"

"Tell me about you last... Boyfriend?" She asks tentatively, emphasis falling on the last word. Her breath seems to pause in the silence, till I feel I have to answer so that she doesn't pass out from lack of oxygen.

"Ugh, just some douche from highschool. Nothing worth telling at all," I shrug. This is entirely true, he was totally unmemorable. She gives a small, thoughtful nod, and slides the length of her legs under the covers, wriggling down until her feet push against my legs.

"And you? Last girlfriend?" I ask casually. She blinks, then gives a small smile as her head settles on the pillow.

"Left her in Ottawa when I moved back here after my parents died. She didn't think long distance would work." I frown, my hand settling over one of her feet and squeezing gently.

"Sorry," I mumble, "what a bitch." She giggles and shrugs, doona wrinkling around her, and gives a small almost inaudible sigh, letting her eyelids fall closed.

"Everything happens for a reason."

"Exactly. It was fate. You were meant to come back here and meet, Emmmm...ily?" Holly giggles sleepily and kicks my leg half heartedly.

"Emma," she corrects, "and no, not happening." I grin at her, watch her breathing steady out.

"Night nerd," I whisper, hugging my knees as I watch her fall asleep. As her mouth falls open a little I get up and tiptoe over, gently lifting her glasses off of her face and placing them on the bedside table.

...

"Gooooood morning!" The sound of Dov's voice drifts up the stairs and I squeeze my eyes shut tighter. My stomach grumbles and I roll, only to find my arm hit something next to me. Last night floods back to me in fragmented sections and snapshots, all at once.

Doing shots at the bar. Drunk Holly. Getting drunk Holly home. Those intense eyes. Holly falling asleep mid conversation, glasses balancing wonkily on the bridge of her nose.

The last thing I remember is settling back onto Holly's bed, just for a moment, watching her sleep.

Now I squint tiredly at the form next to me and find Holly, mouth still hanging slightly ajar, hair splayed across her pillow, staticky and tangled. I must have fallen asleep sitting on the end of her bed. I have since managed to wiggle my way into the space between her and the wall, back just touching the cold, firm plaster. Her hand is gripping the front of my shirt beneath the blanket, holding me in place. It's warm under the covers, heat radiating off of Holly's body in waves, making me want to roll in closer. My head is barely balancing on the edge of Holly's pillow, which smells like her, like lavender, and something softer, subtler, something uniquely Holly, maybe a mixture of dust and paper, ballpoint pen and highlighters and coffee. I breathe it in, eyelids fluttering momentarily closed again, inhaling the scent.

"Hey Holly, did you want some….. coffee," Dov's voice halts, the last word trails out in a squeak as my eyes fly open and I sit bolt upright, Holly's hand still clutching my shirt, fingers folded tightly in the cotton. Dov is standing at the top of Holly's stairs, one foot on the landing, a mug in his hand. His cheeks are the pinkest I have seen him since Chloe flirted with him in class two weeks ago and he couldn't speak for an hour he was so flustered. He looks surprised, and then awkward, and then maybe just a little smug as he shakes off the embarrassment and smirks at me.

"Uhm, you guys obviously had a good Halloween." Holly groans beside me, her hand releasing me and slipping down over my stomach to rest just under the blankets, against my abdomen. She almost opens her eyes, squints into the sun streaming through the glass doors that lead onto the terrace, and squeezes them shut tighter.

"Too much to drink," she bemoans hoarsely, and then rolls onto her other side, burying her head in the sheets and mumbles through the folds of cotton, "What are you doing in my bed Peck?"

"I fell asleep!" I mutter in embarrassment, climbing out into the freezing cold air and crawling across the bed. Dov is watching in amusement as I stumble getting up off the bed. I glare him down as I shuffle past onto the stairs, and ignore his smirk, though I can feel it burning into the back of my head as I walk straight down and into the bathroom and close the door firmly behind me.

...

After a long, hot shower I hole up in my room with my laptop googling hangover cures and then I pull on jeans and a tshirt and walk to the shops and load up on everything the internet suggests will help ease the aftermaths of a good night out.

Gatorade. Alka-Seltzer. Carbs. Advil.

By the time I get back it is midafternoon. I unload everything onto the stone benchtop in the kitchen, the ultimate get-over-a-hangover pack. I take an alka-seltzer, a glass of water, two advils and a cold bottle of gatorade, and make my way upstairs balancing them in my arms.

I peek into the room as soon as my head reaches above floor height. Holly has gotten up at some point to draw the curtains and climbed back into bed again. I see her form curled under the doona in the other corner of the dark room.

"Holly," I whisper, afraid that anything louder will sounds like a scream to her no doubt pounding head. I walk in and place the items down on her bedside table, and her head emerges from the folds of linen.

"Hi," she replies hoarsely. I think this is as bad as Holly can look, which is still rather good, piercing brown eyes staring up at me from behind tangles of dark chocolate hair. I hold out the advil and gatorade, and she raises her eyebrows at me questioningly.

"Gatorade has, um, electrolytes right?" A small smile pulls at her mouth and I roll my eyes, arms crossing over my chest, "That's what Dov told me once when I had a hangover, and I, had some lying around." Holly shifts up onto her elbow and takes the bottle and the advil, using the bright blue liquid to wash down the pill. She swallows heavily and looks at the other items on the table next to her.

"Was that just lying around too?" she asks, indicating towards the alka-seltzer. I glare down at her.

"Any more of this attitude and I will be forgoing the toast I was going to make you." She laughs, and then winces, letting the bottle sit against her side on the bed and reaching a hand up to touch her forehead tenderly. She reaches over and clasps her glasses in her hand, slipping them on, and then looking up at me again.

"Hmmm would this be breakfast in bed? How romantic Gail," her tone is light and teasing, and yet her gaze is saying something else. She is watching me again in that thoughtful way. I tug at the bottom of my wrinkled tshirt self consciously.

"Uhm, no, this would be dinner in bed," I reply. Her eyes go wide, and I think that my joke hasn't landed quite so well.

"What time is it?" she asks. I pull my phone out of my pocket and check, the brightness of the screen stinging my eyes in the dark of her room.

"Four fifty two." She groans and slumps down a little, running a hand through her wild hair. That doesn't look good.

"What's wrong?" I ask uncertainly. She shakes her head, and gives me a wry smile, pushing back the tangles.

"I missed class today. You are such a bad influence."

"Bad influence? Were you at the same bar I was last night?" Her cheeks flush at my response.

"Was I that bad?" I grin down at her.

"It was like nerds gone wild."

...


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: sorry for the long break, I am literally writing bits of this on my phone on the train too and from work each day (which is a pretty short trip tbh) so it is taking a little while to get whole chapters out and edited.
> 
> Thank you so much to all the amazing people who left comments, I can't believe anyone is still reading after that hiatus.
> 
> I really hope you all still enjoy it :)
> 
> I had a sketch in mind for this but I didn't get around to it yet, so maybe I will do it this weekend and post later.

...

I come back from my shift at starbucks, feeling gross and sweaty and coffee splattered, and stumble into the front hall, kicking off my shoes lazily and then frowning and bending down to place them neatly inline with Holly's against the wall, when I hear voices from the kitchen.

A laugh echoes out from the other room and I ball my dirty green apron in my hands and tentatively walking around the couch to investigate.

That girl from Halloween is sitting at our kitchen counter, (did I just call it ours?) smiling broadly at Holly. She doesn't even notice me enter, focused intently on something Holly is saying as she makes a cup of tea. Holly however notices the moment i step into the room, her eyes drawing across to catch mine mid-sentence, her mouth curling in a soft smile as she finishes some amusing chemistry based story.

"Hey," she grins and tucks some loose hair back behind her ears. I hold her gaze for a moment and then she flushes lightly as my eyes flick towards her visitor and she quickly adds, "You remember Emma, right?"

"Yes, Halloween," I nod and shift my weight awkwardly, standing on the spot, as I had no real purpose for coming into the kitchen, and then stride to the fridge decidedly and yank it open. Food, I am obviously in here because I want food.

"How was work?" Holly asks me, despite the fact that her friend looks more than ready to continue their conversation, and a little miffed at my interruption. I hide my smirk behind the fridge door and groan in response.

"That good?" She asks, amused. I let the door swing shut again, still empty handed, and hold up the crumpled apron as explanation.

"I had coffee spilt on me, twice," I roll my eyes, "Anyway, don't let me interrupt. I better go get changed before the whole house smells like double shot macchiato with soy milk." I shuffle back out of the kitchen, and I'm not even two steps around the wall when I hear Emma start up about a lecturer they have. A twinge of something, mild annoyance maybe, twists in my gut as I reach the stairs and jog up onto the second floor and into my room. I push the door closed with some mild force and it bangs shut as I let the apron fall into my washing basket. I throw my keys and phone and wallet onto my duvet and run a hand through my hair, smoothing it out. Ugh, I really do smell strongly of coffee and assorted syrups. I can feel something sticky on my forehead too. I groan and begin to strip down out of my dorky uniform. I can hear the front door close and footsteps on the stairs, and I'm still pulling an old shirt over my head when my bedroom door opens and Holly strolls in. I see her blush as my head pops through the hole and I pull the material the rest of the way down over my abdomen.

"Finished so soon?" I ask somewhat briskly. Holly hovers in the threshold of my room, playing with the hem of her size too big tshirt. It folds lazily around her slight form, and highlights her small figure. Her track pants are patterned with the periodic table and it is kind of adorable. Adorable? Did I just think they are adorable?

"She was dropping off notes from the lecture I missed yesterday," as if she knows that I was wondering what her classmate was doing here. Her classmate who is super gay (I swear I saw a pride sticker on the side of her dorky backpack, as if I needed further proof) and totally crushing on Holly. Not that this means anything to me, other than the fact that Holly is kind of one of my two only friends, and I'm very protective. Obviously.

"Okay," I shrug dismissively, "cool." Holly's head is tilted slightly to one side, brown eyes observing me intently through her thick framed glasses, as though she is trying to decode a puzzle. After a moment she lets out a small, heavy breath and walks into my room, pushing the door closed behind her. She walks barefoot across my carpet and takes a seat on the edge of my bed.

"So, two coffee spills in one day huh?" She asks, "yikes, are you that bad a barista?" She teases, making herself comfortable. I shake my head, trying to fight the smile that wants to take over my face.

"Please, I'm amazing. No, I had one clutz, and one dickhead," I inform her, the corners of my mouth twitching up as I watch her lean back on her elbows casually. She lets out a small laugh, and gives me a look that says to continue.

"Don't you have, um, study to do? You know, catchup for yesterday?" I ask, still feeling somewhat guilty over her missing class. She gives me a small smile and nods slowly.

"Well, yes. But nothing that can't wait." The way she says it, something that never would have come out of her mouth when I first moved in. Maybe I have been a bad influence. I bite my lip and walk over to sit down next to her.

"Okay, well, he just looked like a wanker right from the beginning."

...

It's a Sunday and we are lying on my bed late in the afternoon. I am leaning against my headboard with my laptop in my lap, playing random youtube videos as I put together a powerpoint presentation for class, and Holly is lounging near my feet, elegantly balanced against the wall with a book in her hands, making notes on something that sounded very impressive and complicated.

I paste a photo of a cop arresting a troubled looking youth in the corner of the third page, and then flick back to youtube. I pull up a new video from a playlist I started a few weeks ago labelled H. The dulcet tones and jazzy horns start up from the speakers and out of the corner of my eye I see Holy noticeably pause, hand freezing mid sentence still poised on the page of her notebook. I glance up and watch as she places her pen down on the doona for a moment and let's her eyelids flutter closed. Her expression is hard to read. When she opens them again rich brown eyes find mine, and she gives me a small smile, readjusting her glasses.

"Come Fly With Me," she states softly, and I feel a strange warmth settling in my chest as she looks at me, like a heat pack pressed against my skin, that kind of warmth that burns but it feels good, "my dad loved Sinatra." I run my tongue over my top lip and nod.

"I know." She blinks in that same way that she always does when I admit to remembering something about her, that pleasant surprise that makes me smile in her naivety, as though anyone could possibly forget something about her, as though she could ever be so insignificant. She taps her pen against the page and wiggles her toes.

"Hmmm." It's almost a hum, a gentle and melodic pondering.

"Hmm?" I question back reflexively, needing to know what she means by this vague single syllable response. She gives me a cryptic smile and pokes my foot with her pen, leaving a small, dark blue ink mark on my skin. Then she goes back to writing out her notes, a thick section of hair falling down against the side of her face and spiralling down in a large, loose curl onto the paper of her notebook, ends splaying out over the rules lines and obscuring her sketch of some kind of chemical structure.

The warm afternoon sunlight is streaming through my window and it falls around her like a halo, highlighting the loose hairs suspended by static, falling across her cheekbones in golden tones. Her teeth drag across her bottom lip as she reads something, and she pushes her glasses back up the bridge of her nose again, and she is absolutely gorgeous.

...

Dov finds me lying on the couch with one leg up, looking at my foot. Behind my toes, even out of focus I can tell he is giving me that somewhere between amused and concerned face he does.

"Did you grow a sixth toe?" He asks grinning. I ignore him and stare at the small, blue mark on my skin.

It has been plaguing me since she left my room, took her heavy textbook in her delicate arms, hugging the item to her chest, and shuffled out with an almost shy grin as she went off to get ready for class. And I listened to her footsteps on the stairs, the soft music of her getting ready I had come to know and to listen for. And she went to class and I wandered down stairs and collapsed onto the couch in an almost defeated way. Maybe it was defeated, because I can't fight it any more or push it away, and this blue speck, this smeared ink, could be a tattoo on my skin of the moment that it suddenly clicked, like I realised I had just been staring at the picture upside down the whole time. It was just a day like any other, it wasn't like she had touched me or looked at me any differently than before. I don't know why, but my brain seemed to have suddenly caught on. Gorgeous, I thought she was gorgeous. Not, hey isn't that model in victoria's secret gorgeous, but, oh my god, this woman is extraordinary in ways I could never imagine, inside and out, kind of gorgeous. I exhale heavily.

"I have a thing for Holly," I admit, the words tumbling out of my mouth simultaneously as the realisation hits me all at once, like I am colliding with a wall. Dov raises his eyebrows, looking confused, as though he has surely misunderstood or misheard me.

"Sorry, what?" he asks, "What do you mean?" I am still a bit too wrapped up in the surprise myself too be concerned about his reaction.

"A thing. I have a thing for Holly. Like, I think she is smoking hot, in a nerdy way, and I would really like to kiss her." I babble, the thoughts rolling over my tongue before I can stop them. Dov blinks at me, surprised. I am equally as surprised. Kiss her? The thought sends goosebumps crawling across my skin, my stomach twisting nervously.

"But. She's a girl," he says, dumbfounded. I roll my eyes at him.

"More importantly, she's our housemate," I emphasise, as this is the much more pressing issue. I can't have a thing for my housemate. I'm not Dov. How did this happen? I groan and let my head fall back against the couch cushion so that I am staring up at the white, sloped ceiling. My eyes bore into the plain, white nothingness of it, but even this dull canvas can't quiet the thoughts running through my head.

"Fuck," I moan, glancing at where Dov is still awkwardly hovering at the foot of the couch, "What am I going to do?"

"Going to do? What, you think she might actually like you back?" he asks semi-sarcastically, without thinking, and his assumption that I would have as little a chance with her as he does makes me want to grit my teeth, but then he frowns and continues, "Wait, did you sleep with her on halloween?" he suddenly changes tack, and I bite back a laugh, the amusement of his expression dulled by the thought now seeping into the back of my mind.

"No, no. I mean, yes, but..." before I can finish he cuts in, eyes wide.

"What?"

"I mean sleep sleep, not sex, not that my sex life is or ever will be any of your business, but we just, slept, together, in her bed. By accident," I trail off awkwardly, and chew the inside of my cheek as the thoughts hit me, remembering that night in a whole new light, remembering the scent of her all around me, her hand holding me close, maybe more than just the warmth making me want to move in closer. I swallow thickly and shake my head. This is worse than I thought.

...

Next morning I leave for class early and I walk and take the train for the first time. I get lost and get to class 10 minutes late, sweaty and red in the face and craving caffeine. I fall into my seat and Traci leans over and places a takeaway coffee cup on my desk. She gives me a smile and then goes back to organising her notes. I have never been so grateful to have her in my class.

When college finishes for the day I hover awkwardly in the doorway while Traci packs her things into her backpack.

"What are you doing now?" I ask her. Anything, I would do anything not to go home yet. To have to look Holly in the eye after my revelation, I feel like it will be written all over my face. "I am crazy about you as much more than a friend and roommate" printed on my forehead in bold text. Tracy suppresses a smirk as she throws her backpack over her shoulder.

"I'm going to pick up Leo down the road," she tells me. I nod thoughtfully, adjusting my bag strap.

"The kid, yea? Cool. I'll walk you."

So I walk all the way down Bay street with her to the daycare, and attempt some awkward small chat on the way. Leo is actually pretty cute for a kid. We size each other up when he finishes hugging his mum, and then he gives me a toothy grin of approval, and I walk them most of the way to the nearest train station, insisting that it's on my way. After I cross the road back onto the college campus to weave my way between the buildings back home my stomach twists. Home means Holly. I think that this thought alone probably means more than I can think about right now. I shake my head and walk briskly, cold air having already tipped my nose rosy red. I push my earbuds into my ears and press shuffle on my ipod. The sound of leaves crunching beneath my feet disappears under the soft tones of music, and my stomach flips nervously as I realise that 'Come Fly With Me' is playing. I shove my hands down into the pockets of my jacket and walk a little faster around the corner of an old brownstone building to cut across a section of grass. Frank Sinatra is serenading me with his deep and soothing voice when I feel a touch on my shoulder, and I turn quickly out of the contact, hands rising in front of myself defensively. I find Holly standing behind me, giggling silently behind the sound of the music loud in my ears. I pull out my earphones swiftly, blushing, and shove them into my bag.

"Oh, hi," I squeak, "Heard a few too many stories from my brother about things happening on campuses. You can never be too careful," I confess awkwardly as she is still grinning at me in amusement.

"You'd better escort me home then," Holly tells me confidently, stepping in and linking her arm through mine, "You wouldn't want anything to happen to me." I feel my skin tingle where her hand presses into my arm through my jacket, her fingers curling possessively around my wrist, one finger pressing lightly against the skin where my sleeve ends and rubbing just slightly at the point where I remember her telling me she can find my pulse. I bite down on my lip, any witty reply dying on the tip of my tongue where it's pressed to the roof of my mouth, warmth crawling up the base of my neck. I let her lead us back down through the park, and I swallow and try to remember, how do we do this again? That talking without saying too much thing, where we converse so easily?

"Ugh, class was horrible," Holly groans, her shoulder gently bumping mine as we walk, "I don't know where my brain was today. They were talking about muscle relaxants and reversing agents and all I could hear was gibberish. How was college?" She looks across at me, glasses sitting elegantly near the end of her nose, brown eyes catching the low afternoon sun as she gazes over the frames at me.

"Average," I shrug noncommittally, "Boring. Long. I can't wait to get home and just veg out and eat two bags of cheese puffs for dinner and fall asleep on the lounge." Holly shakes her head at me, reprimanding.

"Cheese puffs for dinner? I think not. I'm making pasta," she tells me, "You will eat some, and watch Big Bang Theory with me." She says this with such certainty that I believe her. We cross the road up towards our street, and the sun is starting to set over the rooftops, rich crimson and orange light soaking the bottom of the horizon.

"I love sunsets," Holly says thoughtfully, the light just tinting the soft waves of her hair, and I can't help but smile at her, letting my hand slide up to find hers and squeeze it gently. I only untangle them when we reach the front lawn, quickly unweaving our fingers and pushing my hand deep into the pockets of my old jacket again. Holly glances down at the tatty piece of clothing as we walk up the path, and pokes at a large hole forming near my shoulder.

"This is not a sensible jumper," she informs me disapprovingly. I glance down at it, the worn grey cotton starting to wear thin in places here and there, the small coffee stain I never fully got out. Maybe a little sloppy, but not that bad.

"I have been wearing it since the last time I let my mother take me shopping. Which was two years ago. It was a disaster. This was the only non-hideous item that came out of the shopping trip." Holly smirks.

"Hmm, I don't see you as much of the shopping type," she pushes open the front door and let's me walk in first. I slip out of my shoes and step onto the soft carpet.

"True, but remember, I was not the problem!" She smirks as I say this, breezing past me towards the kitchen, her things left by the door. I dump my backpack at the foot of the couch and follow her.

"I highly doubt that," she calls over her shoulder as she stands at the sink, turning on the hot water with a horrendous squeak of rusty metal faucets. I humph loudly at her suggestion, walking up and stopping just behind her.

"She tried to make me wear mauve. Mauve, Holl. That's a grandma colour." I am aware of that fact that I am so close that the front of my jumper just brushes the back of her tshirt. I watch the hot water pouring over her hands, when she turns her head just a little, just enough to catch my eye.

"I love mauve." She says it with such seriousness that I want to laugh. I shake my head at her and lean forward, wrapping one arm around her shoulder and resting my chin on the other.

"Of course you do."

...


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n: Just fyi to anyone reading of a remotely sciency mind - I apologise profusely for any horrifically awkward and incorrect things I may write or have written. I am not nor have ever been very good at science, so all smart Holly things I pretty much steal from google and hope don't sound ridiculous.
> 
> ...

...

It is weird to admit. I like Holly. I have romantic feelings for Holly. The thought randomly pops into my mind from time to time like a reminder I keep hitting snooze on, jolting me with the sudden memory all over again, sending my heart pattering, my thoughts wandering. And then I try to push it back down again, squish the thoughts and feelings into a box in the back of my mind.

I couldn't say it isn't hard. Because she comes into my room spontaneously and reads her textbooks for hours on my bed in her pyjamas. Her pyjamas which tend to consist of a size too big tshirt and small shorts in an assortment of semi adorable and completely nerdy patterns. And she leaves a mug of coffee on my bedside table some mornings before she leaves for class with sticky notes attached that read things like "Your daily dose of C8-H10-N4-O2" which make me smile far more than I like to admit. And I accidentally used her shampoo this morning and smelt like her all day, and I kept inhaling the soft lavender scent every time I brushed my hair out of my face, and would think of her again. And I like it, all of it. I love her presence in my room, the way she throws cool mints at my head if I doze off while reading and puts my playlist on repeat in the corner, singing along under her breath when she thinks that I am too engrossed in study to notice. I love waking up and knowing she has thought of me. I love the smell of her lingering on my skin.

And now I know why I love all these things so much, it makes it harder. Harder not to give in to the thoughts that hit me suddenly, the instinctual pull to push the hair out of her eyes, to touch her hand for no reason when it sits next to me on the bed, her arms outstretched.

It is Friday afternoon and I am hanging around in her room aimlessly while she throws clothes into a bag.

"I can't believe you're abandoning me with Dov," I grumble, pushing some books aside to sit in the small arm chair adjacent to her bed, "for a whole weekend!" I see Holly's body shake slightly with her giggle as she leans over the bag.

"I leave early Saturday and get back late Sunday. If you sleep in twice, which you always do on weekends, you'll barely notice I'm gone!" She makes a solid point, but I continue to pout anyway. When she turns around she finds me curled up on her chair, arms crossed sullenly, and she gives me a soft, slightly smug smile.

"Gail," she says in that inexplicable way that cracks my resolve in a second, my tempestuous, stubborn temperament crumbling away, "will you really miss me that much?" Her brown eyes are goading me, and I roll my eyes with dramatic flair and drop my arms to my sides, playing with the hem of my sock.

"Please, as if," I protest, "but who's going to cook for me so I don't live off leftovers and takeout and coffee?" She laughs, throwing dark waves of hair over her shoulder absentmindedly, and walks over to the chair, placing her hands on the arm rests either side of me and leaning down so that our faces are close.

"You survived like that for 19 years before you met me, you can survive two more days," she teases, bumping my forehead with her own. Her breath blows warm over my mouth as she exhales, and I bite down on my lip fighting instinct with the little self restraint I have. Maybe a few days apart will be good for me. When did we get so inseparable anyway.

"You smell nice," she adds as she pulls back, grinning nerdily in that adorable way that she does, that sets my heart fluttering, and she bounces back over to her bag to zip it closed. My cheeks flush, I can feel the warmth spread across them, and I push my hair back away from my face.

"I need more shampoo!" I announce dramatically, and she raises her eyebrows at me, amused.

...

I hear Holly leave at six am on Saturday morning. I feel like my brain has been tentatively listening out in my sleep, and wakes me the moment her footsteps start on the stairs. I listen to her tiptoe down, and then I hear my bedroom door creak open. I am still half asleep, and yet deeply aware that me being even semi awake this early on a Saturday would set alarm bells off to Holly, like how obvious could I be, so I lie still and silent as she creeps in, and then leaves again just as quietly.

I wait until the front door closes, and I hear the soft grunt of her car starting up. Then I tentatively open my eyes, scanning the room. I don't see anything amiss, until I notice the grey jumper lying at the foot of my bed. It is Holly's extremely cosy looking Univeristy of Toronto Medicine jumper. I have seen her wear it a million times, and noticed the way the warm material creases and folds around her form, and how cosy she looks wearing it lazing on the couch or walking home from class, the tips of her fingers just peeking out from the ends of her sleeves, pink from the cold. I can't fight the grin that takes over my face as I look at it, draped over the corner of my bed. I pull the covers up around my chin and sigh heavily.

It takes me another ten minutes to pull my heavy limbs out from under the doona and into the cold air, the carpet tickling the arches of my bare feet as my legs hang over the edge of the mattress. I think this is a record time for me to be awake on a weekend of my own accord. I make my way into the bathroom and take a long, hot shower, letting the scalding water roll down my back. My mind wanders to Holly on the road, and I picture her, squeezing my eyes closed to imagine her car breezing down the quiet Saturday morning streets out of Toronto, her stereo on loud, some old school jazz song a mellow backdrop to her trip, hair tied back neatly, the heater turned up so that the windows are just on the verge of fogging. My teeth pull over my bottom lip and I turn the water off, the warmth quickly evaporating around me till I am quivering slightly and forced to make a dash for my towel.

I am sitting at the breakfast bar, dressed in my weekend sweats, with a coffee in front of me and my phone clasped in my hands, when Dov wanders in. His hair has formed an awkward cowlick in his sleep that would be comical if this wasn't the first time we've really be alone without Holly in possible earshot since I told him how I felt. He pauses in the archway between kitchen and living room, and watches the way I am fidgeting with my mobile, twisting and twirling it in my fingers, fighting the urge to text her, it's still far too early.

"I have an idea," I announce before he can say anything, and he looks relieved not to have to be the first to speak, "what are your plans for today?"

It really doesn't take all that much convincing, he is surprisingly pliable for once. Or maybe he just realises that this is the best way to not have to talk too much today without it being awkward.

I push open the door to the spare room and squint inside, reaching for the light switch. The light flickers on, stuttering slightly in the process as though it doesn't remember how to, it seems like it's been a while. The room is large but the space feels smaller due to the amount of crap packed inside. There are boxes upon boxes upon boxes, old items with sheets thrown over the top that look like jagged mountain ranges, all lightly covered in a layer of dust. Dov scratches the side of his head, making a face.

"Do you think we can do this in one day?" He asks uncertainly. I push a pile of dusty books to the side with my foot, the items shifting in their tower till they are precariously balanced, and frown uncertainly.

"Maybe make that two."

By lunch time I realise it will take all today just to clear out the room. I have Dov under clear instructions not to throw anything away without checking with me first, ignoring Holly's fleeting comment when we first moved in about being happy for us to chuck it all. So far I have a collection in one corner of her father's old research that I am organising and dusting as I go, ordering the notebooks by date and subject in old boxes. Out of date textbooks, unimportant paraphernalia and broken items go straight to the bin. Soon we have half the room cleared, and a small corner near the door stacked with the things I deem needing to keep.

I pull my hair back in a loose hair tie, the heat of all the movement finally overcoming the cold air and flushing my skin, red crawling up the base of my neck. Dov has gone from crouching down to sort some smaller items from a box, to sitting lazily on the floor looking semi defeated, leaning back on the heels of his hands.

"Lunch!" He announces, grinning at me from across the room. I raise my eyebrows at him, swiping a stray hair out of my eyes.

"Please don't make something," I plead, and he rolls his eyes as he finally pulls himself to his feet, dusting off his pants.

"As if. Take away, from Jimmy's. My shout." However very un-Dov like, I think as he slinks out of the room. I take the opportunity to reach for my phone where I have had it wedged in my pants pocket. One new messages flashes on the screen, and I scramble to open it, grinning as I see it is from Holly.

8:23am 'I bet you're still in bed. Sleep well tool.'

I have been avoiding looking at my phone for this very reason, that the moment I know she has messaged I can't restrain myself from texting back. Replying at 8:30 on a Saturday morning within minutes of her message is like sending out smoke signals that say I have a giant crush on you. Thankfully it has gone unseen until midday. My fingers move swiftly across my phone screen, leaving mild inaccuracies in their wake like "i hope you fot there dafe". I scan it over to ensure I am not sounding in any way clingy or overly caring, and sign off with 'have fun nerd' before hitting send. I slide the phone back into my pocket and try to switch my attention away from the mildly anxious feeling of awaiting a reply.

I move over to the next section of the room and throw back a dusty cotton sheet to begin work. When the small cloud of particles settles again I find three plastic crates filled with old school vinyl records, covers dog eared and fading. My stomach lurches at just the sight of them. For a second I wonder if Holly ever knew that her fathers music collection was stashed down here all along, but then I know that she doesn't, as she has confessed to me before that she hasn't even had the courage to come into this room since she moved in.

I crouch down and run my hand over the top of them, fingers tracing the tattered edges tenderly. I carefully pull one out, brushing over the cover and smiling at the title, a Billie Holiday album, the image a painting of her with the white flower in her hair. I picture Holly in my room, dark hair tumbling around her slight face as she leans over her book, glasses slipping gradually down the bridge of her nose towards the tip, whispering the lyrics beneath her breath, her finger tapping against her knee to the music of Stormy Weather. I feel my chest constrict, that indescribable feeling I get when I am looking at her filling the space between my ribs, and it is some mix of want and admiration and adoration that is all jumbled together, my lips dry, pulling into a grin.

I exhaled heavily and try to dispel the feelings with the air leaving my body. I pull one of the crates out of the corner, dragging it over the floor, and something behind them catches my eye, something wooden. I climb around and push back the cloth that has flopped over the top of it, and down the bottom, now tilted on an awkward angle, is a record player. The wood is a little chipped and worn, and the needle looks slightly bent out of shape, and someone has accidentally marked it with pen. Although on closer inspection, maybe that is very familiar, scribbly writing of the initials H.S. I smirk, lifting the item up in my hands and holding it gently, cautiously. It is definitely broken. I glance back towards the doorway. Dov is gone up to the shops and the house is quiet in the way that it always is when empty, void of human noise but still not silent, filled with creaks and sighs and wind whistling through cracks. I run a finger over the crooked needle, and frown, thinking of Holly's face seeing it in this condition. The idea makes my stomach squirm in an unpleasant way.

God, I care about this woman, in so many more ways than a roommate or even just a crush. At what point did Holly become one of the most important people in my life? And how did I never see it coming?

...

By the time Dov returns I have almost finished clearing out everything that needs to be chucked, and everything that needs to stay is neatly tucked into one corner ready to be organised and rearranged, bar the records and player which are safely hidden in my wardrobe.

We break for lunch, hamburgers and chips from a shop two streets away that I love. I eat so much I think I might be sick, and so I have to lie down on the couch until the bloating subsides. Dov puts Doctor Who on, and I am too bloated to move so I am forced to watch three episodes, groaning halfheartedly at cliched moments to annoy him. I check my phone frequently, but nothing new.

In the afternoon I sweep out the whole room, and push open the glass french doors so that it opens out into the courtyard. The afternoon sunlight floods in as I clean, and the breeze bristles the papers of her dad's work, and I sweep the dirt and the dust out onto the pavers. When I finish I sit on the small step formed where the room ends and the courtyard begins, cool evening air settling in, the sun dropping down behind the naked tree line. I lean back on my hands and kick out my legs, taking a long, steady breath. A part of me itches to look through the photo albums I found amongst the saved items, but I feel guilty enough about the record collection to go snooping through old photos without Holly's invitation.

I am deciding what to do with the new room when I hear footsteps tramping down the stairs. Moments later the door creaks open and Dov's dweeby head peers around the frame, grinning.

"Leftover takeaway for dinner?" He asks. I laugh and nod my head, indicating for him to come in. He doesn't hesitate at the invitation, scrambling over to take a seat beside me. He sweeps a hand through the flop of brown hair like a crest at the front of his head, skewing it to one side but in no way lessening the thick, untameable wave.

"So. How are things with uh, you and Holly?" He asks, foot kicking at a loose paver with the toe of his old sneaker. The stone leaves a mark to match the many other scuffs on the once white plastic toe. My jaw clenches, and I roll my eyes at him, expression hardening as I look across at this sheepish face.

"How are things with you and Chloe?" I retort. His faces flushes five shades of red, even tipping his ears, and he tries to give off a sort of blank, naive expression, but he's already given himself away well and truly. As if his actions in class haven't already been clear enough.

"I don't know what you mean."

"Hmmm, whatever you say loser. You were practically drooling when she leant over to help you in class the other day, you little perv," I tell him, slightly creeped out just remembering, and give him my best disapproving look. He glowers back like a puppy trying to bare it's teeth, not remotely intimidating, and I reach over to ruffle his hair.

...


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I have been struggling to write this chapter a bit, being unsure if I am liking the direction I am taking and if the feel of the story is still there.
> 
> I have so many ideas I want to do that I am now not sure I'll be able to fit in. anyway I guess we will see.
> 
> I really hope you are all still enjoying this! Please feel free to tell me if that's not the case, or if you have any thoughts or criticisms!
> 
> Also I have been doing some doodles every now and again from the story or inspired by the story, which are on my Tumblr if you are ever interested :) I have a google doc of all my inspiration photos and doodles and sometimes I post the drawings with the chapters.

…

I'm lying in my room staring at the textbook I should be reading, trying to will myself to pick it up and do so. It remains stationary, unopened on my bedside table, and my hands stay at my side. I let out a heavy breath and allow my eyelids to fall closed. I almost drift off, thoughts wandering hazily, until a vibration through the mattress jerks me to reality again. My phone lies beside me on the sheet, the screen lighting up, and my hands move quickly as I see the name, swiping across the glass before I press it to my ear.

"Hey," I breathe out in a rush, and I hear that loud giggle down the line, so Holly but so different, it feels odd to be speaking like this from miles apart.

"Hey, my favourite officer in training," she replies dryly, "How was your day without me? Or should I say your sleep?" I hope that she can feel my frown.

"I didn't sleep all day," I insist somewhat whiningly, leaning back into the soft comfort of my pillow to stare up at the sloping ceiling. As I watch the shadow play across the white paint I can definitely hear her smirk.

"You didn't text me back till lunch time." This is true, and any other day would be evidence enough, coupled with what most likely looked like my half asleep sloppy texting, but was in fact only nerves and haste to reply.

"I was really busy." This is true, but I know coming from me seems like a lame and unimaginative lie. Holly giggles again, and sheets ruffle, muffled through the speaker. She lets out a very small yet heavy sigh that makes my skin prickle and my stomach dip slightly as it sounds softly in my ear.

"What are you doing?" She whispers. I bite down on my lip and look around the room, everything cast in dramatic shadow by the lamp light. I shrug before I remember she can't see, and I can feel her hanging on the silence. Why do I imagine that this is what a normal teenage girl feels like, whispering into the phone to a boy she has a crush on while her parents sleep down the hall.

"Nothing. Attempting to study by telepathy," I mumble, giving my textbook an unimpressed look and shifting down further into my bed to get comfortable, "you?" I hear her laugh again, softly this time.

"I'm not even going to question that. Um, nothing. My Aunt went to bed, after I beat her at scrabble three times in a row. Cos I have a prodigious vocabulary, and I'm awesome. Annnnd now, I am just lying in bed, talking to you." The last sentence is oddly punctuated in an almost singsong manner, and I can feel a kind of awkward tension turning my stomach upside down. There is a pull in my chest, to tell her everything, to admit the feelings swirling in my brain. What is it about late night whispered conversations that make it feel like a twilight zone where secrets can be uttered without consequences? My lips open just slightly, tongue brushing over my bottom lip.

"Did you see the present I left you?" She asks, and I grin, eyeing the sweater lying next to me. I had been debating wearing it to bed, but then decided it would be the perfect cosy outfit to wear tomorrow while sorting out the room.

"Yes, I love it. But, you didn't have to-"

"You're jumper was falling to pieces. It was the least I could do." Her voice is resolved, so there is no point arguing. I sigh, but only half-heartedly, because I can't mean it at all.

"Was your aunt happy to see you?" I ask, tracing over the folds in the sheet beside me. I hear her smile before she speaks, and it carries across in her words, a kind of dulled happiness, still content but slightly dimmed.

"Yes, very. I think she misses me a lot more since… you know. We used to see each other every month, and her and my mum used to talk every single week. They were best friends, I think she misses her more than I do. She always used to tell me how much I look like my mother, now she doesn't say it but I could see that look in her eye when she opened the door," she pauses and takes a breath, and I wait silently, not wanting to interrupt, not wanting her to think that I don't want to listen but not wanting to push her, "But it's nice, to see her, and my cousins too. I always used to be so jealous that they had so many siblings, and I was an only child. We're having breakfast tomorrow with my cousin Becky, and then lunch, and then I'll probably be home by dinner, so you don't have to miss me too much," she teases, tone lightening, and I shake my head.

"Firstly, siblings are not something to be jealous over, trust me. And I think you're just rushing back because you miss me," I insist. She makes that humming noise again, and my stomach twists with the memory of the look on her face the last time she did that, and the pen on my skin. I glance down towards my foot just to check, but the ink is long washed off, my pale skin milky and clean.

"Well, I do miss you," she tells me very matter-of-factly, like she is shooting off answers when we do flashcards for her tests, answering on reflex, "You are kind of my best friend." There's a long pause and I drink it in, my stomach tightening. Best friend. It makes me want to smile, and at the same time makes me feel funny, like these feelings are all me, all one sided and in my head. Which is preferable, right? Makes it easier and less messy. But I can't help this disappointment sitting on top of my chest like a weight against my ribcage.

"I am?" I reply shyly.

"Well, do you see anyone else around?" she laughs. I frown, but shake it off and try to project confident, cool and uncaring Gail.

"You and Dov are awfully close."

"Please," she replies sarcastically, I can hear her rolling her eyes, "do I tell Dov my deepest, darkest secrets and thoughts? I think not." She scoffs. I imagine her adjusting her glasses in that superior way that used to drive me crazy when we first met, and now I find completely adorable. She breathes out heavily, and my skin prickles again at the sound, and she continues quietly;

"You know, we uh, tell each other stuff. That's what's so cool about us hanging out. I didn't have someone like that in my life before," her voice is soft, as though she is afraid that raising the volume of her words might scare me off, and then she clears her throat and adds, "Plus you make me laugh. And I know that should I ever have any issues with the police I now know somebody with an in on the force, which is always an added bonus." In the dark and quiet of the house her voice fills the space around me and I close my eyes nervously and try not to pull a usual Gail move and get defensive and cagey and be a dick.

"Shut up nerd," I whisper back, before letting out a breath and adding "I like that too."

...

I wake up at seven with my alarm going off almost directly in my ear, deafeningly loud, as I seem to have fallen asleep with my phone last night. I jerk away from where the piercing tone is sounding straight down to my ear drum, groan and hit snooze, blinking unhappily into the morning light and squinting at the screen. Approximately twelve hours till Holly gets home, I'd better get a move on. I take a short, hot shower and wriggle into my track pants and Holly's jumper, make myself a fresh cup of coffee and then head downstairs. I knock loudly on Dov's door and then thrust it open. Such a boys room, the place is a mess, and I kick rubbish and clothes out of my path as I step inside. He sits upright in bed, Spiderman pyjama shirt riding up, his hair an awkward monstrosity.

"Come on lazy, up up up, time to get to work," I grin overenthusiastically as he squints at me tiredly. His eyes gravitate towards the mug in my hands and then widen a little.

"Is that coffee for me? Why Gail, you shouldn't have!" He smirks stupidly at me from beneath his fringe and I roll my eyes.

"In your dreams. Spare room in twenty!"

In exactly twenty two minutes he enters, still looking a little half asleep, wearing a large hoodie. He eyes me warily where I am sitting in the middle of the floor with an open, blank sketchbook, chewing on the end of my pencil. The wood grinds under my teeth and I stop self-consciously.

"It needs to be fun but functional and something for Holly mostly, like what would Holly want? Apart from a laboratory, we are not building her a laboratory in the basement. Too far. And she doesn't need a study, or a reading nook. I would suggest a game room but that just kind of sounds like something that I would want..." I trail off, scratching the back of my head, and find Dov giving me that smug look he does. I glower back as he walks towards me and takes a seat on the floor as well, crossing his legs.

"Wow, you really like her, huh?" My face flushes at the unexpected comment. Although, completely true. I give a noncommittal shrug, hugging the warm folds of my jumper tighter around me. The scent of jasmine and paper wafting up from the material, whether real or imaginary, is still comforting. Dov's eyes draw down with this motion to the logo across my chest and I see the glimmer of a gleeful twinkle in his eyes as he reads it. Could I be more obvious? Not to self: change before Holly get's home.

"Dov," I snap somewhat whinely, "help, please."

"Okay, okay, bossy boots," he raises his hands in defeat, as though I am leaving him no choice, though I can tell he is revelling in me not only needing but asking for his help, "Maybe the last thing she needs is another study related space. A games room isn't such a bad idea, a place she can relax and unwind with her friends, you know. Wait, does she have any friends other than us?" A somewhat defensive growl echoes up in the back of my throat at the comment, and he smirks.

...

I lean back into a large beanbag and grin up at Dov, letting my body sink down into the shifting shape below me. Not bad considering we had one day and a budget, plus minimum muscle seeing as I was the only one with any. We have comfy, funky patterned bean bags, an old, chunky TV with my old xbox and the somewhat shabby looking pingpong table I remembered my brother had been wanting to get rid of for months, and bribed into bringing over. It took the promise of doing his laundry for a month and making up a good excuse for him to miss family dinner the next time he needs it. I'll probably mix his colours with his whites, turn all his underwear and work shirts pink, and get out of the rest of his washing on the basis of pure household chore ineptitude, so it's not too bad.

I lean my head back and the beans crackle and shift under the weight of it as my eyes run across the walls. I framed a couple of impressive looking articles by her dad that had been hiding in his things, hung on the wall by me because Dov could not be trusted with a hammer, and the rest of his science-y paraphernalia is neatly organized and stored in shelving, with some cute, sentimental looking knick knacks displayed. I let out a heavy, content sigh, and throw my arms up in the air.

"We did it!" I announce, and Dov offers me a grin from the other side of the ping pong table where he has just finished stuffing some cardboard under the slightly shorter leg.

"That we did," he laughs, and twirls the bat awkwardly in his hands, nearly dropping it.

"Well, mostly me really," I add with a grin, unlocking my phone casually where it is resting against my thigh and glancing at the latest message from Holly.

3:23pm: leaving soon! Don't get too excited ;)

My stomach dips suddenly as I read it, swirling around nervously at the thought that she will be back soon. Dov is still huffing about my comment, but my mind barely registers this as it is swirling as much as my insides. It's already after four now. I pull myself up to my feet, phone clutched tightly in my sweaty palm, and Dov is watching me expectantly.

"I um, think she'll be home soon," I spit out as my fingers fidget with the hem of my jumper. His smile broadens into an excited grin that is almost infectious, I would catch it if I wasn't so damn nervous. God I hope she likes this. God I hope I didn't balls it all up.

"Now remember," I tell Dov sternly as we exit the room and close the door behind us, "This was a joint idea, that we both had, together, casually. Just like a thing to kill time. Not a big deal." I see him roll his eyes as he walks past me to the foot of the stairs and I follow him up.

I make a half-hearted attempt at tidying the living room and kitchen. Dishes are not my strong suit, and I fear the next time I go to get a drink it will either taste like soap or have bits of food stuck to the glass. I am shoving Dov's DVD's back into the rack besides the television, since when do I clean up after this boy?, when I hear a car pull up in the driveway. I freeze midmotion and kind of plonk the DVD in my hand, a copy of the Nightmare Before Christmas, down on the coffee table with a thud. Holly is back.

I bite my lip and stand up and I find my fingers brushing through my hair without thinking about it, tugging my blondes waves into submission. I shift my jumper and then look down, oh, my jumper. I cringe. Is it too late to change? I am making a beeline for the stairs when the front door opens and I stop on the bottom step and turn, hand gripping the railing, and find Holly bustling through the entrance. She tugs her large duffle bag in behind her and drops it unceremoniously onto the carpet, leaning back against the wooden door as it closes behind her. I can't help the grin that takes over my face as I see her, lopsided glasses slanting across the bridge of her nose, brown hair static-y around her shoulders, t-shirt creased up where she has obviously had the strap of her bag slung, risen just enough that a sliver of her stomach peeks out underneath. And it is so good to see her. She lets out a breath and looks up and finds me standing there. A heaviness that seemed to be weighing down her shoulders now lifts, and her expression brightens, the rich brown shades of her eyes shifting in tone to a lighter, golden brown as she gives me a soft smile.

"Hi."

"Hi."

"You're wearing my jumper," she grins as she says this, kicking off her shoes and giving me a sidelong glance as my cheeks flush. I brush my hair back over my shoulder casually to try and distract from my rosy cheeks, and give a casual nod.

"It's cosy." I am hitting myself internally, what kind of comment is that? I can see Holly giggle as she lifts her bag and shuffles towards me, waddling with the weight of it, and I rush forward to unburden her of the load. She tries to protest as I grab the strap, but I ignore her and take the bag, caught by surprise when she lets go and I am holding the full weight of it.

"Oh my god, did you take some bricks with you?" Holly rolls her eyes and lets me go first, following up the stairs and I can feel her hovering

"I took a textbook. Or three."

"Of course you did."

I drop her bag on the floor the moment I reach the very top of the stairs in her room, and walk over to take a seat on her bed, feigning relief after the long trek up and flopping back onto her mattress dramatically. When I look up Holly is standing at the end of the bed peering down at me through her glasses. Her expression is soft, lips curled in the beginning of a smile that hasn't quite followed through. I raise my eyebrows at her.

"You don't look happy." The comment seems to fall out of my mouth against my will, and Holly looks away again, adjusting her glasses self consciously.

"Oh. Sorry, I just-"

"No, no," I sit up hurriedly, shaking my head, "I just meant, I'm worried. You look a little bit down. Is everything okay?" I reach out and tug at Holly's hand where it is hanging by her side, brushing my finger tips over her palm and watching the way Holly's smiles involuntarily at the feeling, loosening up a little as she does so. She lets out a small breath.

"I'm glad to be home. It was just, a hard trip I guess," she gives a small shrug, and then tangles her hand fully with mine, intertwining our fingers, "Um, thanks." I stand up and tug her by our interlinked hands back towards the stairs.

"Okay, come on," I instruct cryptically, avoiding her questioning gaze as I pull her down the stairs. When we get to the bottom level I knock on Dov's door cautiously, not wanting to walk in on anything I'd rather not see.

"Holly's home!" I below. I can hear shuffling on the other side of the door.

"You know she was only gone for two days Gail," his voice sounds out as I hear him walking towards the door, "you're acting like she was gone for a … month," he trails off as he opens the door and finds us both standing there. He gives me a sheepish look. I quickly let go of Holly's hand and cross my arms, glaring him down firmly, but it's watered down by the giggle that I hear leave Holly's lips beside me, and I glance across to find her smiling.

"He is kind of right you know," she whispers back, "But nice to see you Dov. How was your weekend?" she asks politely. He smiles, eyeing me to try to gauge what he is supposed to say, and I give a small nod to indicate yes, we are showing her the room now.

"Well," he says, stepping out into the hall, "Actually, regarding that, me and Gail, um, have something to show you." Subtle. Real subtle. I let him lead the way, and avoid the probing look that Holly tried to give me, pushing her in front of me to trail Dov down to the spare room. He pauses at the door, hand resting on the door handle, and looks to me again.

"Oh my god Dov, stop being so dramatic, it's not a big deal or anything, we just, did some, tidying," I proclaim. Dov pushes open the door and steps aside to let Holly through, and gives me a pointed look.

"What?" I whisper.

"Stop trying to down play it!" he hisses back. We both blush and stop bickering as Holly turns around, and my stomach dips dramatically, like I am on a swing and as the I come back down I can feel like stomach drop.

"Um, so, what do you think?" I frown nervously when I notice that Holly's eyes are shining behind her glasses, and she smiles at us both.

"I don't even know what to say." She moves forward and before I know it she is pulling us both into an awkward joint hug, and my arm is smushed against Dov's as Holly pulls us in.

"Thank you guys so much."

…

Later that night Holly is reading on one of the beanbags while I play xbox. Every once in a while I poke her book with my foot as part of my ongoing, failing campaign that she is supposed to be relaxing down here, not studying. She maintains that studying is relaxing for her. What a nerd.

I am concentrating on killing about a thousand zombies that are all closing in on me, and I am pretty sure I am about to die, when Holly's lets her book rest against her chest for a moment, and rests her hand on my foot where it sits on her lap, tracing patterns across my sock and coming to rest on the spot where she left her mark that day.

"I know this was all you, you know," she whispers, "and it's amazing. You're amazing." She tells me this softly and then picks up her book again and keeps reading as though nothing has happened. I blink, and a zombie gets me, game over flashing up on the screen. I think my cheeks are pink, and I can feel warmth in my face and along my arms and in the bottom of my stomach. And I don't know what to say, so I don't say anything. But her hand keeps resting on my foot as she reads now, and her fingers run absentmindedly over the top arch, and draw circles around and around, making my heart flutter, and I am left to wonder, when did this friendship start to cross some kind of weird imaginary boundary. I have never been one to have close friends as it is, never mind touchy feely ones. And I know on my part why am so more than okay with this, I have it bad for this girl, and every time she touches me I don't want her to stop. What I don't understand is Holly. Why she is so touchy feely, and doesn't mind me hanging around all the time, and never gets sick of me. Because every once in a while I think that maybe she likes me too. And the rest of the time I am so certain she doesn't. And I have no idea which one I prefer.

…


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry for the long break, things have been crazy and I have had no time to write. I had half of this sitting in my drafts for a month, but was umming and erring if I was even going to use it, however upon continuing I think I have a revitalized liking for it. Hopefully you guys don't totally hate it.
> 
> Thank you so much for continuing to read! :):) I really appreciate all your sweet comments.
> 
> …

…

It is mid November, freezing cold and anticipating snow any time now. Holly is studying like crazy to try and get on top of everything before her December exams, and me and Dov are somewhat half heartedly getting ready for ours. I seem to see Holly a little bit less than I had been doing over the past few weeks. That is to say instead of spending 80% of my free time with her, it has dropped back to about 50%. Which still feels weird and less and in some insane way I think that I kind of miss her.

I never even missed my parents when they went away. I missed my brother when he moved out, for about a week, and then got over it. But I still see Holly everyday. We pass each other in the bathroom when I am brushing my teeth as she comes in to brush her hair (quickly, rushed, and yet it still looks amazing). She lets me study in her room and she puts the music I have now burnt to a CD on her stereo, and I lie on her bed with my laptop and she sits at her desk, and when she gets too stressed I throw cheetos at her until she gives in and gives me a smile.

But she goes to the library a lot, and has an insane amount of classes as usual, and then I have work, and that dweeby looking kid who I refer to as frappucino because I don't remember his name has gone on holidays and I am covering his shifts.

I am coming home from work one day, freezing as usual, pulling my hands up into the sleeves of Holly's jumper and folding my arms to try to keep all my warmth in as I jog up the driveway. There is an additional car outside of our house, which probably means Holly has a study-buddy over. … At least I hope that it is just a study buddy. My stomach twists, and I try and shake it off, the uneasy feeling that has suddenly set upon me, as I take the steps to the porch two at a time. The door is unlocked, and I push it open, trying to maintain my cool, unfazed, mildly annoyed by company but mostly drained from work expression. As though that is a thing. As I step over the threshold the warm air hits my face, and voices hit my ears, and I find Dov leading a group of students from our class in a group study session in the middle of our living room. He grins as he sees me, waving me over, and I scowl back.

I have coffee in my hair, and I am dressed in a Starbucks uniform and Holly's UofT Medicine jumper and my nose if probably red from the walk home. More importantly, there are like, people in my house. People I barely put up with at college. And a multitude of them all at once. Some warning would've been nice.

"Hey," I grunt, kicking off my shoes, when I spot Traci sitting on my couch, and she twists in her seat to give me a smile. Chris is next to Dov, of course, those two are attached at the hip in a mildly gay kind of way. Nick gives me a wave from the other side of the room and I acknowledge him with a strained, semi sarcastic smile.

"Work?" Tracy says, with a sympathetic tone, and I nod, rolling my eyes. I can't really fathom much more than this while I am still in a state of mild shock and infuriated with Dov for springing this on me. He knows how much I dislike people. I head into the kitchen to get a drink, and as I approach the threshold I find that I am not alone in here either. However this company is more my cup of tea. I find little Leo sitting at my dining table with a book, swinging his legs back and forth where they hang under the large dining chair.

"Gail!" he exclaims upon seeing me, and I give him a warm smile, walking over to ruffle his hair. Never did I think a kid would grow on me, but I have to admit this one isn't too bad.

"Leo, my little man," I greet him. He gives me a playful glare when I mess up his hair and I stick my tongue out at him, before peering down at his notebook. Maths, ew.

"Homework?" I ask, and he gives me a nod, "That's the worst."

"It's not so bad. Holly is helping me." I blink, and follow his line of sight to find that behind me in the kitchen Holly is standing at the bench, watching me with an amused smile. I think my cheeks go pink as I see the look on her face. She glances at my jumper (this is the third time I have worn it since she gave it to me already, maybe I am overdoing it a bit) and grins, pushing dark hair back over her shoulder and readjusting her glasses. She is wearing a fuzzy, warm sweater. This is the dorkiest sweater I have ever seen. How does she look cute in it?

"Good day at work?" she asks, bringing Leo over a glass of orange juice, and taking a seat beside him at the table. Holly as a tutor, the idea of this is completely adorable, and a little bit hot, and I am trying not to think about this as I pull out a chair and sit down on the other side.

"I think two skinny caramel macchiatos boy broke up with his girlfriend. Today all he got was a single cappuccino, and he didn't smell like he had showered in a day or two," I tell her nonchalantly, stealing Leo's pen and doodling a scruffy looking drawing of a nerdy penguin with a bowtie on the corner of his book. He laughs, and Holly gives me a smile, eyes soft in that way she does that I can't decrypt.

"Maybe she just went away for the holidays, and he is finally letting loose in her absence," she hypothesizes. I love that we have these ridiculous conversations, and she knows all my regulars by codename. Leo raises an eyebrow at us both, and I poke him in the arm, making him giggle again.

"Go study with your friends," Holly encourages gently, nodding her head towards the rowdy group of wannabe officers who look like they are putting more effort into goofing off and devouring junk food then getting anything done. I look at them all and roll my eyes dramatically.

"No thank you, I'd rather hang out with you two," I admit, leaning my head on one hand with my elbow supported against the table top. Leo glances across at Holly, who is giving me a pointed look.

"We're doing maths," she points out. I look at the page half filled with numbers, and the maths textbook Holly is resting her hands on, drumming her fingers against the front cover, and I sigh heavily.

"Ugh, fair point." If I am honest, I know I will be more of a distraction to Leo than a help in this department. With another dramatic sigh, causing my audience of two to giggle again, I reluctantly pull myself to my feet and head into the living room. The only free spot left is either on the floor next to Dov, or in between Chloe and Nick. I groan internally and choose the latter, sliding into the space which sits me facing the doorway into the livingroom. Now I have to spend the afternoon trying not to stare creepily at Holly. Who looks so cute as she is explaining something to Leo, hair falling over her shoulder. I pull my gaze away and turn to Nick beside me.

"Changing disciplines?" he asks, smiling at his own joke. I look down at my jumper and then back up at him, expression blank. Does this even deserve a response?

"Totally," I bite back sarcastically, before sinking back into the couch, arms crossed. However as it turns out my conversational possibilities are him, or Chloe, ie. Miss Pep, one of the most upbeat people I have ever met. How does anyone have that much energy?

"Where do you work? Oh my god, I love Starbucks. Well, I love coffee. Or caffeine in pretty much any form. How cool. Do you get free drinks? Do you get unlimited coffee? What's the most specific order you've ever gotten?" Her voice is still ringing in my ear when I finally manage to bring the 'conversation' (her talking at me for three minutes straight) to an end, and turn back to Nick, who is leaning against the arm of the couch casually and smiling in amusement.

"Save me," I mouth to him.

"Hey Gail, you wanna show me where the bathroom is?" he asks loudly. I give a small mock sigh of relief, and get to my feet, indicating for him to follow before leading him upstairs. When we reach the top of the staircase I hover awkwardly in the unused ex-study outside my room.

"Did you actually need to use the bathroom?" I ask him. Nick grins and shakes his head.

"No, but for the sake of maintaining our cover story, where is it?" he asks, looking around. I indicate towards the door at the foot at the next set of stairs.

"There's another one downstairs, but that is Dov's, believe me you'd rather use our bathroom. But if anyone we don't like needs to pee, tell them to use his." I lean back against the wall beside the door onto the balcony, and Nick smiles in his kind of quietly charming way. He is so all american, nice guy with a strong jawline, I almost can't stand it, and yet it is hard to hate him because he is so genuinely nice.

"Nice place," he comments, looking around and noticing that the large window behind us is in fact a door. He pushes the handle and opens it up, stepping out into the cold air on the balcony. He gives an approving nod as he looks around. I stay inside, where it is warm, like a sane person. When he steps back in he closes the door carefully behind him, crossing his arms over his chest and suppressing a shiver.

"So, where's your room?" My almost approachable expression quickly drops back to the usual cold look of dissatisfaction I maintain in class at this comment.

"Okay cowboy, back to study," I reply dryly, turning and heading straight back towards the stairs. I hear Nick chuckle behind me as he follows. I give him a wry smile as be both take our seats again, and he elbows me playfully before Dov gives us a sharp 'pay attention gail' look. Completely unwarranted given the haphazard nature of this study group, and lack of any real productivity being achieved all around. My eyes gravitate towards the kitchen table like they are magnetically drawn, and catch Holly dropping her gaze quickly, mouth pulled to the side stoically.

…

When we have finally gotten rid of them all, and Dov is dropping Chloe home, I find Holly tidying the living room of empty packets and re-fluffing pillows. I lean against the back of the lounge and watch her for a moment, until she notices me and stops, looking up imploringly.

"Yes?" she asks defensively, dropping the pillow in her hands as I grin at her and lean forward. I reach over and push her glasses back into place, enjoying her momentarily flushed face before she rolls her eyes at me uncharacteristically.

"How was your study group?" She balls the rubbish in her hands and begins to take it over to the bin as I trail behind her somewhat like a puppy. I stand at the edge of the kitchen as she drops it into the bin beneath the sink, and watch the gentle arch of her back as she pushes it back under.

"Fine. Lame. Unproductive and very unexpected," I shrug nonchalantly, and open the cupboard to rummage for snack food. However we seem to have run out, the consequence of having a bunch of cops in training over - suddenly there are no chips left in the whole house. She gives a small smile as she turns around, and reaches up to open a cupboard above the stove that I never venture into because she mostly seems to keep vegetables in there. She pulls a packet of something from behind a cabbage head and throws it towards me, and I grin discovering as i catch it that it is a packet of cheetos.

"You're amazing," I whisper as I pull it open, and she laughs loudly, seemingly against her better judgement as her smile quickly falls back into a firm straight line.

"I know," she murmurs. She is quiet for a minute as I chew, and then as she walks back past me, the back of her hand just grazing my knuckles as she passes in fast stride towards the living room. Maybe it would be mildly stalkerish to follow her again, but we live in the same house, and there are only so many rooms, so I wager that it is perfectly reasonable to shuffle back the way she has now gone. I pause at the edge of the kitchen and lean against the wooden frame of the doorway. She is standing on the tips of her toes, pushing a book back into its space on a high shelf, pushing to wedge it back in between its chubby shelfmates. A warm, tight feeling invades my chest as I watch her, dark hair slipping back over her shoulder and moving like silk against her back, tumbling in soft, rippling waves of dark mahogany.

"What are you doing right now?" I ask her, and she jerks slightly as she lowers herself back down onto the balls of her feet, turning to look at me, mildly surprised.

"Oh, uhm, nothing?" she blinks, and readjusts her already perfectly placed glasses, "what's up?" She walks over and sinks into the couch, beaconing me over to join her. I walk across the carpet tentatively, taking a seat on the opposite end, both our feet almost touching in the middle.

"You know how we, like, tell each other stuff," I mumble, keeping my gaze down on our feet where I am using my toes to inch mine forward towards hers, "I've never really been able to talk to anyone about this kind of stuff, but you're, like, by best friend, right? So..." My big toe bumps hers, but this doesn't make her smile as it usually would. She gives a small yet kind of decisive nod, as though she could possibly know what I am about to say.

"That guy, yeah?" she asks, "I don't think I caught his name, but the kind of cute one, that you were sitting next to? Not that I was like, watching you guys, or anything creepy. I'm just very observant. And anyone with eyes could tell he likes you, I mean," she trails off, pushing hair back behind her ears, eyes focused on our feet as well, poking my toe back with her own. I blink, dumbfounded, and then quirk an eyebrow at her. I almost feel like swatting her across the back of the head and exclaiming; 'Observant? Anyone with eyes can tell I like you.'

"Nick?" I ask instead, sounding dubious and amused and a little surprised. She finally looks up, cheeks a soft pink that is creeping into the tip of her nose, and her head tilts just slightly to one side. I go to tell her that adamantly, unabashedly, absolutely no way do I have feelings for Nick. And then something stops me. Instead what comes out is;

"Hypothetically, what would you do, if you realised you maybe had romantic feelings for a friend, but you knew that starting something would be a really bad idea, because of, the circumstances. I mean, if they even liked you back, which they probably don't." Holly's expression is unreadable, a myriad of emotions playing across her dark eyes and the changing shape of her mouth, shifting as she draws her teeth across her bottom lip and she chews on the inside her her cheek. I can't tell if she sees right through me, or honestly believes that I could be talking about all-american boy.

"I am really about the last person to ask for romantic advice," she tells me, rubbing the back of her neck as she meets my eyes, "I mean, hypothetically, it would depend uhm, on the circumstances? Say they were only something temporary, like, being in a class together, I mean, what is the worst that can happen?" I frown, and nod my head. It is so much more complicated than liking a boy in your class, but I can't really admit that without practically admitting that I am in deep like with her, which defeat the purpose of getting her advice.

"But, umh, say maybe it was different circumstances, something maybe, a little more complicated?" she continues, eyes wandering towards the back of the room and hands fidgeting in her lap, "Well, I guess it would depend on how sure you are, about these feelings." I can feel the awkwardness in the heat on the back of my neck, and the thick feeling in my throat, and I give a sharp nod and stumble up awkwardly to my feet. She pulls her gaze from the far window in the back of the kitchen back to me, as I tug at the bottom of my sweater.

"Cool, okay. Good talk," I mumble, giving her an awkward smile and turning on my heels for the stairs. I have no idea what to make of the awkward conversation, of her answers, of her behavior. Were I a cop, I think, and this was a witness, what would I think then, no emotions clouding my judgement. I pause on the second step, hand resting lightly on the wooden railing, and I glance back to the couch. Holly has slumped back into the cushions, dark hair splayed out around her face, her eyes squeezed closed behind her glasses. I see her chest relax, letting out a heavy breath, before she purses her lips again nervously. Hypothetically, I think that I would assume that the witness had been a little jealous. Hypothetically, I would be reasonably certain they had the same feelings that I do. Hypothetically though, I'm not quite sure what I would do with that information, or with Holly's advice.


	13. Chapter 13

...

 

It is freezing cold, but I refuse to wear Holly's jumper again because it was getting mildly obsessive, and because I don't want to send her any signals. Not when I'm not sure what signals I want to send yet. After our conversation the other afternoon I have managed to avoid spending any longer than five minutes in a room with her at a time. It hasn't been too hard, with work and school and her uni and study. Each time I see her though, even momentarily, her expression is super serious. Not just book nerd serious like that concentrating face she makes when reading her textbooks. It's a different kind of concentration, like she is deep in thought all the time, frowning to herself as she brushes her teeth and pondering while she cooks her eggs in the morning. And each time I see her, dark hair tumbling round her shoulders, t-shirts hanging in soft folds around her body, glasses slipping down the bridge of her nose, dark eyes glancing over the thick frames of her glasses to watch me, seeking me out and giving me a small smile, my stomach flips. All at once I want to make her laugh, and I want to kiss her, and I want to run in the opposite direction before I do something stupid and screw everything up.

Today is the first day we both have nothing on all day. No way to avoid her when I know she will be around the house all day, with no classes and no library sessions needed. That's how I find myself trekking through the freezing cold, in a tshirt and my hole ridden hoodie, to an audio shop down on Carlaw Avenue, in an inch of snow, carrying a record player. Because this is obviously how you try not to show your feelings for a girl, by taking a tram and then a bus across town to get her dad's old record player fixed for her in the first snow of the year as a surprise. It'll take a couple of days, but they say it's easily fixable, and I am ecstatic about this the whole way home, but by the time I get there I am cold and sodden, snow having worked its way into my sneakers. I step through the door, and before I have even finished pulling my soggy shoes off I let out a loud sneeze that almost makes the house shake. Holly's head appears around the edge of the kitchen door, looking concerned as I kick the second damp shoe towards the shoe rack and miss by half a metre.

"Where have you been? And why are you still wearing that rag of a jumper?" she asks briskly, arms crossed, "Are you trying to get sick?" I roll my eyes, but before I can fire something back, I feel the sensation in my nose, another sneeze building, and I squeeze my eyes closed just in time. Achoo. I groan, my body jerking forward with the movement, and look up at her pathetically, standing in the hall in damp socks with my jumper slipping off one shoulder, and my hair tied back messily, strands pulling free of the plait to stick to the back of my neck. I feel horrible. I look horrible too, I am sure.

"Uh oh," I squeak meekly, unzipping my jumper and throwing it onto the back of the lounge. Cold air runs over my bare arms, and my skin bristles with goosebumps.

"Bed, now," Holly instructs, though her expression has softened. I give a small nod and begin to toddle up the staircase. Bed is definitely where I want to be, no convincing needed. When I get to my room I can barely be bothered getting changed, I undo my jeans and let them fall down around my ankles, kicking them off along with my damp socks as I crawl under the covers.

I am lying here, shivering under my doona, when Holly walks in, frowning, carrying a hot water bottle and a mug. The crease that forms between her eyebrows is completely adorable. She sets the cup down on my bedside table, and lifts the covers despite my protest to slip the hot water bottle in beside me. I press it firmly against my chest, and shiver at the heat radiating through my shirt as it hits my cold skin.

"You should know better Gail," she reprimands, but comes across sounding more worried than mad, as she passes me a hot cup of tea and watches me take a cautious first sip. It is warm enough to spread heat through my chest and stomach as it makes its way down, but not hot enough to burn my tongue. I humm contently as I swallow down a second, larger mouthful and then hand it back.

"Yes, but luckily my best friend slash housemate slash..." I trail off, crush was on the tip of my tongue, and clear my throat, "is a doctor in training." I finish, and grin up at her. She gives me a disapproving shake of the head, but can't help but smile back, her cheeks dimpling.

"Well I am sure you know what my course of treatment is going to be then, and no arguments. Now, are we continuing our Doctor Who marathon for your bedrest, or were you open to starting Buffy?" she asks, leaning down and sweeping a wave of blonde hair away from my face. I raise one eyebrow at her, trying to ignore the soft tingle left by her touch.

"Hol, you have a mountain of study to do," I begin to protest, but she only rolls her eyes at me and takes a seat on the edge of my bed. She places her hand on the other side of me to support her weight as she leans over, and I can feel the heat of her body against my stomach.

"What could be a better prac than tending to a real life sick patient?"

"Is your next exam on the common cold?" I quip, but she blows me off, handing me back the mug as she gets to her feet again.

"Shut up and drink your tea. I'll get the laptop."

…

Day two of bed rest. I am curled under the covers, sniffling miserably, when my mobile goes off. Groaning, I watch it vibrating loudly on my bedside table, moving closer towards the edge as my mother's contact flashes up on the screen. Literally the last thing I need is her 'motherly' advice. Pecks don't get sick, we sneeze once and then our superior immune systems eradicate all disease. I think she has taken two sick days off, once when she had Steve and once when she had me. I am staring at the phone, now precariously balanced at the edge of the table, when Holly peeks in to check on me. I offer her a meek smile, sweeping back a lock of blonde hair from my damp forehead.

"I brought you some-"

"Coffee?" I interject hopefully. She narrows her eyes at me and shakes her head, walking in carrying a mug. Today she is wearing a thin singlet, white cotton sitting tight across her skin, before bunching at the hem of her trackpants. How does anyone look sexy in trackpants? Somehow they highlight the sloping contour of her hip bones. I bite my lip and refocus my attention on her face, scrunched up in an adorably unapproving look.

"What did I tell you about coffee when you're sick? It's lemon tea with a dash of honey." She sets it down on my bedside table, china clinking against the wood, and peers at my phone, the screen still lit up.

"One missed call, one new voicemail message, mum," she reads out loud, picking it up as she takes a seat softly on the edge of the bed, "Should you check what it is?" I groan, pressing my palms to my eyes.

"I'm sure nothing important," I begin, before I see Holly's expression and relent with a sigh, "But, sure, just in case." She beams at me, and it's almost worth it, until I hear my mother's clipped tone over loudspeaker.

"Gail, it's your mother. I haven't heard from you in a week and I need to know if you're coming to thanksgiving dinner tomorrow. Wear something nice, dear."

I groan somewhat louder than before and let my body sink further into the mattress and the covers, the fabric and downing rising around me. Holly gives me a small smile as she places the phone back down, pushing the duvet back down past my chin.

"Well you obviously can't go, you're sick."

...

"Are you really going?" Holly asks as she lies on the end of my bed, feet resting against the wall and her hair cascading down over the side, almost touching the floor. I am standing in front of my wardrobe, grimacing at the options.

"Have you met my mother?" I turn to see her give a small nod, smirking at me from upside down as I place my hands on my hips dramatically.

"Well there you go. Imagine her face if I didn't come to dinner on Thanksgiving," I cringe just imagining it myself, and turn back to the possible clothing choices for tonight. There is a very small section of my wardrobe which is mum certified, stuff she bought for me that probably still have tags and make me groan at the thought of wearing them. The rest is my clothes, things I would no doubt feel comfortable in, and that my mother would nitpick and complain over all night long. Tempting, but painful in the long run. I really want to get through this thing as painlessly as possible. I stifle a sniffle, and reach for the box of tissues on my desk.

"Oh come on Gail, you're still sick, you can't go!" Holly exclaims from behind me. I look back to find she has turned over onto her stomach, looking up at me sternly over the black plastic of her glasses frames. I can see directly down the front of her shirt from this position, but that is totally beside the point Gail, concentrate. I ignore her comment, and pull out a hideous top my mother bought me last year.

"I don't think I can put your Med jumper over this," I mutter sullenly, holding it up in front of my t-shirt. Holly grins up at me from the bed, sitting back up and flipping hair over her shoulder as she moves to the edge of the bed.

"Hold that thought." She jumps up and exits the room. I can hear her footsteps dashing up the stairs, and moments later clunking back down again. When she burst back in she is holding up a large, thick brown coat beaming at me triumphantly. I eye it unenthusiastically.

"Is that tweed?" She rolls her eyes at me, and thrusts the jacket onto my bed.

"Stop complaining about my fashion sense and get dressed. I'll meet you in the hall in five, you're already late, if you insist on still going."

When I come downstairs minutes later, feeling odd dressed in a hideous shirt my mother bought and Holly's sensible jacket, she is waiting by the couch with a beanie and scarf, and a pair of sturdy brown, lesbian looking boots at her feet.

"I am going to look like a nerdy, sensibly dressed lesbian," I exclaim, mildly amused at the thought of my mother's face at my entrance. Holly raises her eyebrows at me and wiggles them over her glasses in a suggestive way. Suggestive of what, I'm not sure, but I feel my cheeks flush at whatever the insinuation is.

"You mean, you'll look like me?" She asks, teasing, and indicates towards the shoes, "Stop complaining and start dressing, your brother will be here soon." As I step into the hefty, oversized boots, she pulls the beanie down over my head, smirking to herself in amusement as she tugs it over my ears. She wraps the scarf carefully around, draping it over my shoulders and loosely around my neck so I am snug and warm, the woolen knit insulating my body and tickling against my skin. When she finishes she brushes back a strand of hair from my face, and her cool fingers brush against my cheek. They trail back over my cheekbone and she gently taps the tip of my nose, smiling softly.

"You look like rudolf," she whispers, dropping her hand down, and grazing the skin of my bottom lip as she does so. I feel myself swallow before I can think about it, and I hope it isn't written all over my face, that the touch sends a shiver down my spine. I can feel it even though it's long gone, her touch, lingering cool against my mouth, ghosting in my memory like the cerebral shadow of the long passed action. I can't not think about it. I try to steady my breathing, letting out a long breath. When I look up Holly is looking back at me, unmoving, still close within my sphere, and she holds my gaze, the rich brown of her eyes flecked with warm, golden tones.

"I do strongly identify with rudolf, you know, as a character," I finally whisper back, and Holly's semi-serious expression cracks into a smile, cheeks pulling up and dimpling as she grins, and her teeth pull over her bottom lip.

"You're such an idiot." No-one has ever said this to me in such a tone of adoration, and suddenly her hand, still hovering at the bottom of my scarf, is gripping the loose knit material and using it to pull me forward. Her smile presses against my mouth, and I kiss back impulsively, unthinkingly, pushing my lips against hers gently, capturing her bottom lip in my mouth. Her smile falls away as I pull back, a heavy breath escaping her lips, and she leans in again. She is still holding me close, not that she needs to as I find my body drawn in towards her, my hands finding the waistband of her jeans and using it to pull her hips against mine where we are standing in the front hall, till her weight against me causes me to stumble back against the wall, pulling her with me, heavy boots clunking under my feet in the quiet of the house as we do so. Her lips are soft against mine, her tongue gliding over my bottom lip, causing my mouth to part open. This time when she pulls away her eyes are darker, and unreadable, as she leans into me, pinning me in place, one hand still grasping the scarf around my neck and the other tangled in my hair. I wish this ridiculously thick coat wasn't in between us. She bites her lip, pausing and watching me quietly, cautiously. I am torn between running my fingers through her hair, and pulling her back into another, deeper kiss, when I feel my nose tickle.

"Oh shit," I squeak suddenly, raising my hand quickly to cover my mouth, and Holly stumbles back, blinking, cheeks bright red and mouth curled nervously. Her dark eyes looked worried behind her glasses as she rakes a hand through her dark hair. A small sneeze escapes me, into the palm of my hand. Which, ew, gross. And mortifyingly embarrassing part way through making out with a girl you have a huge crush on.

"Oh crap, I hope I didn't give it to you," I mumble, sagging into the wall, as though the further away from her I get somehow the less likely she is to catch my cold. Even though I literally just pressed my infected mouth against hers. Twice. I cringe and glance across to find Holly giving me a small smile.

"What?" I ask self consciously, reaching up to readjust my beanie where it was sliding off my head with my clean hand.

"I thought you were um, going to say something else," she replies softly, cheeks tinted pink still. I know what she must have thought I meant, like, oh shit I didn't mean that. Oh shit I just kissed a girl. Oh shit that was a terrible accident. It was definitely none of those things. My lips are still tingling where she kissed them, the back of my neck burning where her fingers tangled in my hair, my heartbeat still rushing on the adrenalin of her body pushing against mine. I let out a heavy breath, and give her a small, somewhat shy smile back.

"So, that just happened." She giggles, using the back of her hand to push her glasses up the bridge of her nose. I want to say so much more than that, but I don't even know where to start, and any minute now- A loud honk makes us both jump. I glance out the window, and sure enough bloody Steve's old junk of a car is parked on the curb, headlights on and engine running, waiting for me. I glance back towards her, biting my lip as she walks over again. Holly is giving me that small, unreadable smile that she does every so often as she reaches up and readjusts my scarf for me.

"There, all set," she breathes out softly, just as the car honks again outside, and she lets me move out of the comfortable warmth of her closeness towards the door. My stomach is churning, heart fluttering, as I grip the handle and pull it open. Cold night air floods in over my face.

"Wait, did you bring tissues?" she suddenly calls out in concern from behind me, and I look back to find her rifling through her purse to pull out a small, plastic packet. Could this girl be any dorkier. She grins and blushes as she presses them into my hand, and then pushes me out the door, her hands lingering on my back for a second before pulling back as she hovers in the doorway and watches me go down the steps in the dim evening.

...


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: It has been forever, much too long really. I think in total this story ended up written over the course of a year. Some crazy changes have happened in my life since this begun, it is weird to think back to when I first put pen to paper on this idea.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has read this, who has continued to read this, who has left sweet messages of encouragement both here and on tumblr, or liked or favourited. To those who continued to ask when the next update would be, and if I was going to continue, this last chapter is for your and your persistence which pushed me to finish this off.
> 
> I really hope that you enjoy this last chapter.
> 
> For anyone interested, here is a link to my insp. google doc of pics while I was writing: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1nM26s95eIZL_8WNKaQ5w9t06h_6eyfk1Nb0VApZKTOE/edit?usp=sharing

**Chapter 14:**

_ We kissed _ . I don’t actually know what that means. What happens next when you kiss your roommate who you’ve been crushing on something bad for… probably since you moved in, even though it took you a while to realise it? I spend most of thanksgiving dinner with my parents, and some big wig police officials, thinking about Holly’s lips. Equally plaguing however is the nervous thought that if she catches what I have it’s going to put a dint in her carefully arranged finals study plans. 

Halfway through dinner I slide my phone out of my pocket and semi-surreptitiously send a text to Holly. ‘I’m imposing a kissing ban, effective from the time I return from dinner till I get back to full health’

I am pushing some peas around my white china plate, the scraping of my fork on the porcelain driving my mother crazy, when I feel my mobile vibrate against my leg. ‘Because I obviously have no self control?’

‘Well, it is  _ me _ , no one has  _ that _ good self control’

‘You know that the period of being most contagious has ended anyway’

‘See, already trying to weasel in a kiss’ I am grinning a little too giddily as I write back, just typing it sending a fluttering memory of her soft lips ghosting against mine and making my stomach flutter. 

“Gail, are we texting at the table?” My mother's voice cuts through and pulls me back to the dull dinner before me.

“You took a call ten minutes ago.” I reply dryly. No point denying when I have been blatantly obvious. 

“Was yours an important police matter?”

Tempting as it was to tell her I was flirting with my roommate, the girl one, who I had just kissed before coming here, and might possibly be starting a lesbian relationship with, instead I go with; “It was an important Gail matter.”

My mother gives me a mildly disapproving look that says don’t talk back, but if you are going to then at least come up with something good, and announces dessert to the rest of the table. I sit back, slumping into my seat to watch the table clean up procession at the changing over of courses, when my phone vibrates again where I now have wedged it beneath my leg. 

‘Did it work?’ The message reads. I bite back a smile.

… 

Of course by the time that all the courses and dessert have finished and awkward small chat has been made, and my mother has pretended to fuss over my cold, and Steve finally drops me home, Holly is asleep on the couch. No doubt with the intention of waiting for me. She looks so sweet, with an open book resting against her rising and falling chest and her glasses askew, and her sweeping dark brown hair extending in soft waves around her head over the arm of the lounge. I pull a blanket over her. I don’t think my arms are really strong enough ever, nevermind right now, to carry her up two flights of stairs. Though maybe were I weller I might have at least tried. Instead I press a quick kiss against her forehead, and check the heating is on high before i tiptoe upstairs. I make it into my room before a large sneeze explodes from my nose, and then crawl pathetically tiredly into bed and fall quickly asleep. 

…

There are days, not many of them for me, when your body for no reason that you can tell suddenly wakes without an alarm, without anyone calling out your name or knocking on your door. The kind of mornings you don’t need to use every fibre of self restraint to pull your drowsy body up, and your brain comes instantly into the morning buzzing and bright without a large pot of coffee. This is one of those mornings. I feel myself come into consciousness, stirring with ease in the warmth of my bed. My eyelids flutter open to the soft morning light that fills my room, and my first thought is of Holly. Of her, of her smile, and of her kiss. It’s only 8:30am, and I don’t remember the last time I felt this awake this early in the morning. 

Pushing back the covers, I let my bare feet fall onto the carpet and rise, stretching my sore arms, stretching my limbs, my old pyjama shirt swaying around the strip of midriff peeking out from underneath. I find myself pushing open the door and tiptoeing up the stairs. When I reach the third step from the top I falter and hesitate, bile rising in my throat. What do I do now when I see her? Is there a protocol? Do I act like friends until we have that awkward conversation of what are we now? Do i maintain distance, or walk straight in and kiss her? My stomach curls as I wet my lips and take the next two strides to the top. 

Holly is sitting at her desk, bent over her books, her earphones in and music loud enough that I can hear the dulled tones of familiar tracks. She taps her finger absentmindedly against the thick spine of a book as she reads, her other hand tracing quickly over the lines, ghosting against the paper with the same gentle touch as she did my bottom lip last night. The thought makes me shiver as I walk quietly towards her. I reach the back of her chair and lean down, surprising her as my hand gently catches the bottom of her chin and tilts her head up to meet my lips. Before she can even jump, my lips press against hers, and her surprise turns quickly to a smile that melts against my mouth. The music still playing in her ears, now close enough to recognise, is the sultry jazz tones of Billie Holliday pulling me in, drawing me down into Holly’s soft kiss, sweetly melancholy notes vibrating against my skin as Holly’s fingers find their way into my hair and pull me closer. I feel her chair move back, scraping against the carpet, and before I know it I’m crawling into her lap, my fingers running over the gentle curve of her collarbone to rest against the nape of her neck, and cling to the material of her tshirt. When I come up for air, cool breath rushing into my mouth, I let out a soft giggle that seems to temporarily still us over the sound of my quickened pulse and heavy breathing.

“Good morning,” Holly whispers, her eyes burning into mine through her off kilter glasses with an intense look that makes me want to both smile and kiss her again at the same time, and possibly a lot more. I have to bite my bottom lip to buy myself the time to think it through, and remember that I came up here to talk to her, to make sure we were on the same page. If there is one thing I am sure of as I look back down at her, it is that I don’t want to screw this up. I let out a small breath and grin at the gorgeously sexy woman in whose lap I am currently sitting. Her earphones have come loose and tumbled down into her hair, white chords trailing down her shirt and looping up to her ipod, now precariously balanced at the edge of her desk. I gently pull the plugs free and toss them onto her pile of books.

“Hi,” I whisper back, inhaling the soft lavender of her shampoo mixed with the scent of coffee in her mouth, that intoxicating familiar scent that makes me think of Holly in the morning leaning over my bed in the glow of sunrise that creeps through my blinds to wake me up. I think of this memory in a new light now, think of what it could be, think of her body tangled in my sheets on a lazy sunday in the near future, and find my breath hitching in my throat. I swallow back this new rush of feelings, lust that lights a fire in my stomach, and hope that I’m not blushing.  _ I find Holly incredibly sexy _ , the thought hits me, and now I am sure that I am blushing. This is the difference between realising I have a crush on this incredible woman, and realising that I have so much more than a crush. I don’t just think she’s cute and beautiful, I think she’s  _ sexy _ . Drop dead sexy. Can’t think straight sexy. This woman makes me feel like a fifteen year old boy and a fifteen year old girl at the same time, both flush with lust and giddy with adoration and infatuation. 

“Sorry,” I mumble, a little self conscious about my sudden attack on her lips now that I am sitting here, her eyes watching me carefully. She gives a quick shake of her head, and I feel her thumb gently rub soft circles against my scalp where her hands are still resting, soothing me. 

“Never say sorry for kissing me,” Holly replies with a small smile that reads of humour and seriousness and a small amount of nervous doubt, and I don’t know how but I know exactly what she means. Not just that she is always happy to receive a kiss from me, not just a teasing tone that finds amusement in my nervousness, but also a nervousness of her own, a small fear that  _ I _ might in fact be sorry for doing it all together. I lean in and give her another small peck, using all my self restraint to pull back again.

“I guess we should, talk, about this?” I ask uncertainly, “I’m not usually very good at this stuff, in fact I tend to all out avoid this stuff, and that’s usually how things get messed up. And-” I glance away for a second, a little embarrassed at my outburst of confession, “I don’t want to mess this up.” The last part slips so softly out of my mouth that I am not sure she hears it until she leans up and brushes her nose against my own.

“You won’t mess this up,” she whispers back. I open my mouth, but then quickly close it again, nose wrinkling as I stifle a sneeze that was tickling at the back of my throat. Her eyes read that she knows what I am thinking before I even say it.

“Kissing ban!” I huff, annoyed at myself as I scramble back out of her space, onto my feet. Holly is laughing as I rake my hands through my tangled morning hair in frustration. I had  _ one _ job today, don’t kiss Holly.  

“This isn’t funny Holly, if you get sick before your exams-” but the sentence is cut short as she rises to her feet quickly, leaning forward  and capturing my mouth in another kiss, her lips warm as they part my own with a little more force than before. When she pulls back, a rush of hot air blowing over my lips and down my neck as she breathes out heavily, she presses her forehead against mine. The sensation makes me shiver again.

“The damage is done,” she whispers with a smile against my mouth, “I’ll be fine, I’ve been tending to you for three days with this cold and not gotten sick, a little kissing wont make that much of a difference  _ now _ .” This seems completely reasonable and rational, and I am basically better, a sneeze here or there aside. I am absent mindedly biting down on my bottom lip as I try to decide, and she reaches up to trace the underneath of it with her finger.

“Gail,  _ kiss me _ ,” she presses, and I comply, closing the small gap between us to kiss her again, and again, and again, letting myself go. And there is nothing except us in this attic room on an autumn morning in my old pyjamas, her lips keeping me warm despite the coolth that seeps through her glass doors rushing against the exposed skin of my bare legs. There is nothing except this sexy med school nerd, in her study sweats and winter socks, dark hair a cascading curtain that falls effortlessly around her shoulders, glasses fogging over as she stumbles back. My hand curves round to steady her at the flat of her lower back, holding her in place, until I realise at her tug on my sleeve that she isn’t stumbling, she’s leading me, pulling me back towards the creases and folds of her constellation bedspread. The heat in my stomach erupts into a flock of butterflies, fluttering nervously as she leads me back with each kiss, her hand at the waistband on my shorts pulling me till the backs of her knees hit the mattress and we both go toppling down. I land on top of her, one hand holding me up, my face hovering over hers. I push a dark swirl of hair away from her eyes, and let my fingers ghost down her cheek feeling the gentle contour of her face and the way it dips down into her dimples. She is grinning up at me.

“It the most un-creepy way possible, I have been dreaming about this for a while now,” she tells me somewhat shyly, her hands snaking around my waist. I blink, surprised, though it really shouldn’t surprise me. Maybe my inherent cop instincts caught on to her subtle flirting from week two, even if my naivety and lack of self confidence held it back. Still it’s odd even now to hear it vocalised that she  _ likes _ me. She smiles softly up at me, and I can feel her soft fingertips just beneath the hem of my shirt. 

“Me too,” I admit, letting out a heavy breath and kissing her again. 

…

It’s the 10am on the second of December. Holly is sitting on her bed reading a large book which probably weighs as much as I do in a borrowed pair of my comfy christmas-themed winter sweats. She looks adorable, peering over her glasses frames in the dim lighting. I reach the top of the stairs, a large, very heavy christmas wrapped box in my arms and a large christmas themed coffee carefully balanced on top. She glances up and smiles at me, her smile soon flickering to worry when she sees me properly.

“Gail, what are you doing? Be careful,” she is up in an instant, book falling from her lap unceremoniously with a thunk onto the bed as she races to her feet and comes towards me. I offer her the coffee and she scowls as I usher her back over to the bed, still carrying the box. 

“Happy december,” I grin, “enjoy your first peppermint mocha of the season.” She smirks a little, but tries to maintain a scowl, raising an eyebrow at me as I sit facing her. After a beat she takes a long first sip, and I hear the murmur of contentment as the warm, rich caffeine and sweet syrup roll over her tongue.

“Appreciated,” she admits, wrapping her hands around the sides of the cup for warmth, “but what is that?” She asks dubiously, indicating to the large present still on my lap. I try to suppress the flush I feel swelling in my cheeks, as I push it onto the bedspread between us.

“Merry Christmas in advance,” I tell her, leaning back as I wait for her to open it. She gives me a ‘you shouldn’t have’ look, leaning over and pressing a soft peck against my lips that momentarily bates my breath. I only manage to regain my breathing as she is tearing back the cheesy paper.

“Well now I feel bad cos I haven’t gotten you anything yet-” she babbles shyly, cut short when she sees what is underneath the cheap wrapping paper. Her fingers run over the brand name on the top, tracing the familiar loops and curves. She pulls back the rest of the paper, with less care this time, her hands brushing over the wood. Her mouth opens, hesitates, and then closes again, at a loss for words. When she finally looks up at me I offer a shy smile.

“Gail, this is…” She croaks, reaching out to take my hands. I weave our fingers together and squeeze gently. 

“I hope it isn’t totally over stepping my bounds, I found it when I was cleaning out the room downstairs. It was a bit beat up though, and it wasn’t playing properly, so I took it to a little place in town. It works fine now,” I can feel the nervous babbling taking over and I draw in a deep breath to calm it, “all the records are down in my room, I can bring them up if you want?”

“Gail,” she breathes out. How does she say it like that, a thousand intenations in four letters, soft and yet strong, she says my name like a prayer. The sound makes my knees weak. 

“Yes?” She rubs her thumb along the back of my hand in figure eights.

“How did I ever get so lucky to have you walk into my life?” She sighs gently, leaning over the record player to rest against my side. I feel her lips ghost against my neck, leaving a chaste peck against my skin, and her warm hand snakes around my waist. I close my eyes and feel her heartbeat thumping where she’s pressed against my arm. I’m sure my cheeks are bright red now.

“Sorry, was that too much? Did I freak you out?” She asks cautiously, voice lilting from where her head is resting against my shoulder. I let out a small laugh and pull her in tighter. 

“You’re saying that to the girl who creepily stole your dad's record player and got it fixed without your knowledge.” She pauses a moment, considering this, and then I feel another kiss against the skin of my neck, softer and longer than the last, her breath making me tingle, sending a shiver running down my spine. 

“Can I tell you something else then?” She asks softly. I give a small nod, running a hand through her hair.

“Of course.”

“You make me look forward to christmas again,” she says, leaning back and looking up at me. I have to restrain a giggle when I see her glasses, partially fogged over and sitting at an angle on her nose. She straightens them shyly, and I feel my stomach drop and twist as those gorgeous eyes stare up at me.

“For the first time since…” She purses her lips, the words caught behind them, then  “you make me want to play cheesy christmas music and put up a tree and wrap tinsel around the barristers. You make me happy.” I reach up and cup her cheek in the palm of my hand.

“You make me so happy too.”

...


End file.
